


Aren't You Cold?

by HawkSong



Series: Finding Home [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Original Character(s), POV First Person, Penis In Vagina Sex, Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering, Yep Berylla is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 87
Words: 247,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: The WoL, Berylla, and her interactions with certain Ishgardian lords...How she made Ishgard her home, and why.Note: The Leveilleur twins are 18 by the time this story ends, so they are slightly aged up from canon!
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Series: Finding Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853455
Comments: 250
Kudos: 205





	1. A Drop of Wickedness

I walked back down the steps, more slowly than I wanted to; the wind had picked up, and the steps had a new coating of gritty snow over the bits of ice already. I didn't look back at the kindly-faced inquisitor. If I had, I would have been tempted to walk back up to her and strangle her for her blind obedience...

I stepped inside the main hall, and took a deep breath before I approached the big desk. Haurchefant was standing in front of the desk, muttering terse orders to a trio of young knights, his brow furrowed. An entire stack of letters sat beside him, and he grabbed them and slapped them into the hands of the knight in the middle of the group. “Get going!”

The three saluted, spun round, and I stepped neatly out of the way before they stampeded over me. All three young faces were set with determination.

Haurchefant met my eyes and gestured. “Well?”

“They've taken him to...” I swallowed. “A place called Witch Drop?”

“ _Witchdrop?!_ ” Haurchefant almost yelled. Everyone in the hall paused, staring at their usually-cheerful commander. He took a breath, shook his head, and waved away the attention.

“Damn it,” he said, quieter. His eyes were full of outrage. “This is madness! The inquisitor does not have sufficient grounds to subject him to that manner of trial!” He snapped his head up and looked right at me. “I will not stand idly by and allow an innocent man to die. Berylla, I would dispatch you and one of my knights to Witchdrop. Stall the inquisitor, beg him, I don't care. Do whatever you must to keep Lord Francel alive!”

I nodded. Haurchefant waved to one of the older knights that always stood near, and the man stepped forward briskly, nodding to me before saluting Haurchefant and then heading straight for the door. I followed, glancing back once to see Haurchefant bending near his second in command, giving her rapid orders of some sort. Her face matched his for grimness.

As we made for the northern gate, I asked the knight, “What is Witchdrop? Oh, and your name, please.”

The knight half smiled as he swung up into the saddle. “Hourlinet, miss. Witchdrop is a place of trials. A deep crevasse is there, and the trial generally consists of asking the accused to take a leap of faith.”

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the now-howling wind. “Leap of faith?”

“They leap, and if they fall, then it is said Halone will sweep them up into her halls before they suffer any pain.” The knight's lips twisted. “Or they will reveal their true Dravanian ties, and take wing.”

“That's...that's ridiculous. Barbaric!” I protested.

“Lord Haurchefant would agree,” Hourlinet nodded. “But there were times when such tests were effective, I suppose. However,” and now his brow darkened, “such a trial is meant to be reserved for much more serious crimes than suspected heresy based off a single rosary. I don't like this situation, miss.”

“Just call me Berylla,” I said. “It's easier on both of us. You folks say “miss” and “my lady,” and I keep looking behind me to see who you're talking to.”

He laughed a little. “As you wish.”

He pointed. “The spot is just there, past this large rock. I suggest loosening your weapon. I cannot but think there will be strong resistance to our words.”

As we neared the black rock, we both dismounted and ground-tied the birds, who stood stock still, heads cocked, eyes keen. We walked forward, and I could hear the inquisitor's smooth, pitiless voice, carried on the wind.

“Prove your innocence in the eyes of gods and men. Leap from the cliff and entrust your fate...”

Hourlinet strode forward, putting himself between me and the tall inquisitor. Just on the other side of Guillaime, Francel stood, shivering in his House finery, his strawberry-blond hair disheveled. He stood straight and proud, despite the pure terror in his eyes.

“Inquisitor Guillaime!” Hourlinet called out. “In the name of House Fortemps, I beseech you─stay your hand! We are come on behalf of Lord Haurchefant. My lord has uncovered evidence which suggests that the charges against Lord Francel are without merit. We humbly request that these proceedings be suspended until such time as a full reexamination of the facts has been conducted.”

I set my feet, trying to feel the ground under the snow. The wind screamed, twisting through the crevasse, sounding like a mad, dying thing.

Guillaime stared at us both with cold, uncaring eyes. His thin lips tightened. “Lord Haurchefant has allowed his personal relationship with the accused to cloud his judgment. That he should harbor private doubts, I might have allowed...but that he would dare interfere in legal proceedings sanctioned by the Holy See, I cannot.” He raised his voice, and his left hand; his guards moved towards us, eyes eager and swords already drawn. “To defy the will of an inquisitor is to commit heresy! A crime for which there is but one punishment!”

Hourlinet drew his steel and shouted over his shoulder to me. “We must hold them until Lord Haurchefant arrives, Berylla! And remember─no harm can come to the inquisitor!”

I nodded once as I drew my axe. Then the two guards rushed us.

I whistled for Joy, but the wind snatched the sound away, and with a curse I scrambled out of the way of the guard's first wild swing. I side stepped, almost slipped on a hidden patch of ice, and managed to draw the man away from his fellow guard. He swung again, and I bashed his sword away, then pressed the attack, backing him up into the rocks. He stumbled, and I swiped at him, a testing strike. He ducked, cursing, and I eased back, watching him.

“Bitch!” He lunged forward, trying to skewer me, and I spun to my left, letting my weapon gather momentum for the swing. He howled as the blade bit deep into his arm, and dropped to his knees.

 _One down_. I turned, looking for Hourlinet. The man was holding his own, but behind him I saw Inquisitor Guillaime gesturing. Four more men came pounding up as if summoned from the rocks.

“Damn it,” I growled, and charged them.

They scattered before me like tenpins, and one slipped and toppled right over the edge with a strangled scream.

“Get the woman!” Guillaime snapped.

Hourlinet finished off his opponent and dashed towards the newcomers.

I strode back toward him, swinging my axe in a wide circle; we managed to put our backs together before the remaining three got themselves organized.

“That's one hell of a chopper you have there,” Hourlinet grunted.

“Yep,” I replied, “and I've got the arm to use it, too. HAH!”

One of the three made the mistake of charging me, his spear raised. I cut his legs out from under him, the force of my strike sending him skidding across the snow to fetch up against the rocks. I heard a crack of metal on stone, and he went still.

Hourlinet sliced at another, and they backed up a little, eyeing us, and each other. I braced, knowing the next attack would be more coordinated.

“Kill them!” the inquisitor hissed.

“Haurchefant! Thank the gods!” Francel shouted.

The two guards paused, not dropping their sword points. I cautiously glanced around to see Haurchefant and five knights walking up. All five of them had their weapons at the ready; Haurchefant alone held his sword point down.

His expression was furious, but his voice was calm as he projected to make himself heard over the howling wind.

“It is not our intention to defy the will of the archbishop. But this trial─like many others, I fear─has been orchestrated by enemies of House Haillenarte. They have used you and your fellows to sow discord, Inquisitor─to set brother against brother, that we may tear ourselves apart.”

Guillaime sniffed disdainfully. “The fevered imaginings of a desperate man. What proof have you of this?”

Haurchefant pointed to the two guards who threatened me and Hourlinet. “Ask your men there.”

Both of them stared at the silver haired lord for a moment, then started to step back.

Guillaime turned to them, and if I hadn't been so busy trying to look three ways at once, I would have sworn that he nodded to the two men in some kind of signal.

But just as I wondered if I'd really seen such a gesture, a blood curdling screech split the air, and a thunder of wings threw a flurry of snow into my eyes.

I blinked rapidly, but by the time I'd cleared my vision, Hourlinet was already screaming in pain.

I screamed in pure rage, right back in the face of the monster that had just ravaged the man at my back. The wyvern's scream was louder and its breath stank of rotting meat.

I swung, and its snake-like neck pulled its spiny head out of the way at the last moment, leaving me to scramble for balance.

Then it snapped its head back forward, jaws clashing.

I kicked it in the teeth. “Oh, no you don't! Eat steel!”

Haurchefant roared then, and he and his five knights charged forward.

The wyvern swept its wings forward and neatly clothes-lined two of the knights; I heard tearing flesh and realized the wing-thumbs were spiked. The scaly creature hissed its pleasure as they screamed, scrambling to recover their blades.

I dove forward, under the wyvern's belly, slashing upward. It was an awkward attempt – axes not being meant for such uses – but nonetheless it made the monster howl and focus on me, hopping and flapping as it tried to bite at me even as I rolled between its feet.

I completed the move and rolled to my feet. I spun around, just in time to see the wyvern opening its mouth and fire blossoming in its throat.

“Shit!”

I threw myself to the side, and felt the flames scorch my left side. I landed hard, grunting in pain as rocks bit into my leg and side.

But I scrambled back up on my feet and bellowed a challenge at the creature. “Bring it!”

It snapped its jaws and hissed, and stomped forward two steps.

Then it shrieked, its neck stretching as it pointed its head to the sky, and it whipped its tail – or what was left of it. The severed end of the tail flopped in the snow, spraying blood. The wyvern struck with a wing, and one of Haurchefant's knights went sailing into the rocks, slamming into them and sliding down, stunned.

The creature shrieked again, eyes glowing, and readied another burst of fire. Haurchefant took a stance directly in front of the creature and raised his shield.

The wyvern's eyes focused on him, and opened its mouth wide. It spewed fire – not five feet away from Haurchefant – but the flames splashed against the shield, rendered harmless. Not even a tendril made it past.

I took advantage of the moment of distraction, and stepped in. Raising my axe in both hands, I chopped down with everything I had. My blade sank deep into the wyvern's neck.

It tried to scream again, but I had cut through much of its throat, and blood flowed out as if from a fountain, gargling. The creature staggered, and swiped with its wings one more time, before toppling over and expiring.

I pulled my axe loose, and wiped it clean on a patch of snow.

Haurchefant nodded to me, and turned back to the inquisitor – who stood like a statue, absolutely unfazed by the bloody corpse not ten feet from him, nor any of the other carnage.

Haurchefant stooped, and grabbed something from the hand of the dead guard – another of those odd rosaries. He threw the item at the inquisitor's feet.

“A heretic in the ranks of the Temple Knights. This has grave implications...” Guillaime bowed his head, eyes closed for one moment. Then he opened them and looked at Haurchefant. “Your claims...would appear to have merit, Lord Haurchefant. I shall withdraw my charges against Lord Francel, pending further investigation.” Then he turned his cold gaze to me. “I trust you have not lost sight of that which first brought you to Coerthas, Berylla. Pray locate your errant airship...and use it.”

I heard the venom in his voice, and gave him a sharp, feral smile in return. “Nothing would please me more, my lord inquisitor,” I said with deadly sweetness. I itched to punch him. But I contained myself, and stepped back, letting Lord Haurchefant do his job.

Stiff courtesies were exchanged, and the living were seen to. Francel stepped over to me, and I nodded to him. “Thank you,” he murmured. I just nodded again.

Haurchefant came over, having made certain his men had things well in hand. Francel bowed deeply to him. “Lord Haurchefant, I have not the words to express my gratitude. But why would you risk your reputation to save mine?”

Haurchefant shook his head. “Because I know you, boy. You're too loyal to betray Ishgard, and too devout to question your sentence. Had we been any slower, you'd have jumped of your own free will.”

Francel colored. “I...I would have done whatever it took to redeem House Haillenarte.”

Haurchefant looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. “Praise Halone it did not come to that. But it profits us little to dwell on what might have been.” He gestured courteously to the younger lord. “Let us quit this place, and get back to Camp Dragonhead.”

As we walked towards the road, Haurchefant let his steps lag behind, so that he and I were just out of earshot of the rest. The wind seemed to finally be dying down a little.

“I must thank you, Berylla,” he told me quietly. “And, may I say what a pleasure it was to fight alongside such a fearless and skillful warrior.”

I shrugged. “Just doin' the job,” I said lightly. He glanced at me, and I half smiled. “I was glad to be able to help. He seems like a good fellow, and he surely didn't deserve such ridiculous treatment.” I rubbed at the side of my nose.

“If you don't mind my asking...”

“Hm?” Haurchefant raised his silver eyebrows.

“What's that inquisitor's problem? He seems very...” I shrugged one shoulder.

“Most of the inquisitors of the Holy See are quite passionate about their calling,” Haurchefant answered. I looked over at him, and caught him giving me a faintly disappointed look.

“Well, forgive me if I seem rude, but he's a very passionate jerk.”

Haurchefant rubbed his lips, and didn't answer. But the merry glint had returned to his eyes, and that made me feel a little better about this whole messy business.

“I guess all is well that ends well, yeah?” I offered.

“Indeed.” Haurchefant nodded. “Please, take advantage of our hospitality back at the camp. When you feel rested, come and speak with me again.”

“Will do,” I nodded. Then we had reached the road, and the others. Joy whistled to me, and clacked her beak. I laughed a little, and gave her a quick scratch under her chin feathers. She wasn't completely mollified, but she stood for me as I mounted. When we turned back towards the camp – and a warm stable – her mood improved quite a bit more. I chuckled as she picked up her pace without my asking.

I did take advantage of the camp's facilities – most particularly the unusual but very welcome hot springs. The women-knights of the camp were more than happy to share their space and their stories as we relaxed in the steam.

“This is really quite clever,” I commented, looking around the simple wooden “room” that allowed for a touch of privacy and also neatly contained a portion of the heat.

“The men prefer the open air,” said one ice-blond lady, as she re-braided her damp hair. “But then again, they're idiots.”

“They like proving they won't shrink in the cold,” suggested another, and we all laughed.

Getting the blood off of me, and letting the hot water soak my bruises, did wonders for my energy. By the time I got out and got dressed again, I was starving, but not weary.

I packed away the filthy clothes I had had on, frowning a little. Another tunic ruined. I was just glad no one had commented on the burn mark. I wasn't about to whittle down the camp's medical supplies. Not when I knew good and damn well that in twenty hours or so, I would be completely fine. But I didn't want to parade _that_ around, either.

The food wasn't anything to write home about – mostly some form of vegetable soup and some decent bread. But it was hot, and there was no shortage, and there was a hot drink as well. Like tea, but spicy somehow. It was tasty, and warmed me right to my toes.

Thus refreshed, I made a brief stop by the infirmary. Hourlinet sat on the edge of a bunk, waiting patiently as his arm was stitched up by a petite young lady in an apron and simple gown. His leg was already bandaged, and I winced a little seeing that it was in a splint.

“Ah, the hero of the afternoon,” he greeted me. His words were a little slurred, and as I came near, he raised a mug and drank from it. I could smell the brandy from where I stood.

“I should think you deserve as much honor as I do,” I said quietly. “How bad is it?”

“Oh, hardly a scratch,” he told me with a sunny smile. “Nellie here took care of it.”

The nurse beside him, obviously Nellie, snorted softly.

“It's a bite wound,” she said, speaking as if to the careful stitches she was making in his arm. “It's more than a scratch. But, it will heal quickly and well.” She glanced at me, then back at her work, and half smiled. “This one at least will stay in bed until we let him up.”

“Oh?” I chuckled a little. “That must be a mercy.”

“Oh yes.” She bit the thread off, and Hourlinet grunted a little. His eyes were getting glassy.

Nellie bound up his arm, and Hourlinet finished off the mug. He handed it to the nurse, and as she guided him to lie down, tried to give her a rather sloppy kiss on the cheek. Nellie dodged it neatly, with the patient look of someone who was used to such displays.

Then she stood up, and gathered up the things she had been using. Before she had even stepped away from the bed, Hourlinet was snoring.

I stepped back toward the door, then paused. “The others?”

“They're either already treated and sleeping, or...” She shook her head. “Well, Lord Haurchefant should be in bed, but he's not, as usual. Off with you. I'll make sure they know that the hero looked in on them.”

I gave her a small bow. “Thank you.”

She waved me away, but she looked pleased.

I made my way over to the main hall, then. Haurchefant was, indeed, sitting on the edge of his desk. He had taken off his mail and gambeson, and was wearing a sleeveless tunic; a bandage covered the upper part of his shield arm. I tried not to notice the way his muscles looked in the firelight.

I stepped over to him, and he nodded at me. He handed a paper to his second in command and waved her off. “Ah, you look quite recuperated,” he said, with the smile I'd gotten used to.

I smiled back, and then couldn't help looking at his wounded arm and grimacing a little.

“It's a bone bruise and a bit of a burned spot,” he told me, almost laughing. “Our healer makes a quite effective poultice for just such injuries. I never stay in the infirmary when there's work to be done.”

“What work? Seems like this is a time for rest.”

“There's always work.” He swiped at his hair a little, getting it out of his eyes. “This camp is responsible for patrolling quite a large area, and we coordinate with Whitebrim, to the west. If it isn't the local wildlife, it's Dravanians, and when it isn't the dragons, it's heretics.”

“Surely you sleep once in a while?” I asked mildly.

His eyes gleamed a little. “Once in a while.” Then he glanced down at my arm, and frowned slightly. “Did you not stop at the infirmary yourself?”

“Hm?” I followed his gaze and realized that my arm was exposed. _Damn_.

“It's nothing,” I began, but he reached out and tugged on my wrist.

The touch of his fingers on my skin distracted me, and I let him extend my arm instead of pulling away.

“That's quite a burn.”

I looked at it, and blinked. The burn looked much worse in the relative brightness of the firelight here, than it had in the steam house. It extended the full length of the upper part of my arm. I tried to pull my arm back, but Haurchefant held my hand firmly, and looked me in the eye.

“You should get a poultice yourself, Berylla.” His thumb rubbed against my wrist.

I shook my head. My heart was beating quicker. I couldn't seem to get my brain to string two words together, for a moment. “I'll be fine by morning,” I managed.

“My lord Haurchefant?”

He let me go, and I took a half step back, turning half toward the fire so I had a moment to compose myself. _What the hell?_ I fussed at my own body. _This is no time to get horny. Now stop it_.

Behind me, I heard soft murmurs, and then Haurchefant cleared his throat. I looked over my shoulder, and then turned to face him.

“You recall that witness I mentioned? The one who saw the airship land, those years ago?”

I nodded.

“He's arrived, and is ready to speak with you outside.”

“Oh.” I tucked a stray hair back behind my ear, and nodded once. “Thank you. I'll go, uh, talk to him.”

“Let me know what you learn,” he called after me as I walked to the door.

Outside, a tall, skinny fellow in the signature purple robe and pointed hat of the Observatorium stood fidgeting near a brazier. He gazed at me through half-moon spectacles and said, in a remarkably deep voice, “Berylla, I presume?”

“Yes. I'm told you may have some information for me?”

“Yes.” His long fingers clutched possessively at a tome bound in red cloth. “I would prefer to get this over with quickly. I'm retired, and would prefer to get back to my usual routine.”

“I understand,” I nodded. “Please tell me whatever you can.”

“According to my calculations,” he pushed his glasses up on his nose with one finger, “the airship I saw five years ago has to have landed not far from the Stone Vigil. An unfortunate turn of events; it means that the garrison almost certainly seized the vessel and brought it within their walls. If so, then you would need an army of knights to have any hope of securing it.”

He seemed to look me up and down for a second. “Though Lord Haurchefant is, from all indications, quite fond of you. Perhaps he can lend you a few?”

Before I could articulate a response to that astonishing comment, he tugged at the brim of his hat. “In any case, I have done my part. I shall pray for your success, miss Berylla.” And without waiting even for me to thank him, he turned around and walked off toward the south gate.

I watched him until he vanished among a knot of folks, and then turned back to the main hall. I gazed at the carved doors for a moment, pondering. _Lord Haurchefant is fond of me, is he? Why would anyone think that?_


	2. Rest and Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a first time for everything...

I stood in the dimming light, still turning over in my mind what the astrologian had said. _Lord Haurchefant is quite fond of you..._

 _Just what does that mean?_ The guy hadn't seemed upset or scandalized; it had been mostly a passing remark by its tone. But still, it nagged at me. Certainly Haurchefant had reason to be pleased with me – but “fond”?

The doors to the main hall opened, and Haurchefant stepped out into the evening air. He saw me, and sauntered over, stretching a little. His sleeveless shirt didn't seem to trouble him at all.

_Then again, I'm standing around in short sleeves too._

“Oh? Done already? And did you learn anything about your missing airship?”

I nodded. “Yes...I'm not sure where the Stone Vigil is, but apparently it's there.”

Haurchefant's smile faded. “The Stone Vigil? That may be...a complication.” Then he shook his head. “Walk with me for a moment, would you?”

I fell into step beside him, and he kept talking.

“The Stone Vigil, like the Steel Vigil north of here, was once an Ishgardian outpost, held by House Haillenarte. Both of them fell around the same time, just after the Calamity. House Durendaire was charged with taking back the Stone Vigil...” He shook his head, his silver hair fluttering in an errant breeze.

“That outpost has been held by the dragons for years, and all access is restricted by decree of House Durendaire.” He looked over at me. “I will write a letter to Lord Drillemont of Whitebrim Front and request that he grant you permission to enter. That said, I fear my influence alone will not suffice, so I will request Lord Francel do the same.”

He stopped, and I realized we were at the door to the infirmary. Before I could protest, Haurchefant had gripped my elbow and steered me inside. He flagged down the nurse and showed her my burn.

“Really, it barely hurts at all,” I tried to assure Nellie, but nothing would do but that I sit right down, and let her smear stuff on my arm, and bandage it. “Really, you heroic sorts,” she fussed under her breath. “Acting as though you're indestructible, refusing to rest...”

“I was planning to sleep soon,” I ventured.

“Well, at least one of you has sense,” she grumbled, and let me stand up from the chair.

Haurchefant gave her a cherubic smile. “Your concern fills my heart with gladness, Nellie” he told her.

She slapped his uninjured arm with a cloth, and shooed us both out. “Go to bed, the pair of you!”

I stepped outside, feeling as if I'd had a narrow escape. As I turned my face up to the sky, just taking a long breath of the cold air, I heard Haurchefant chuckle.

I looked over at him. His smile had taken on a decidedly saucy slant. “Should we obey her instructions?”

I blinked twice, before I got what he was saying. I felt the heat spreading across my face and coughed. “Uh...”

“Were you not also concerned that I should rest?” he asked, slyly. “You could come make certain that I do so.”

_He's not seriously propositioning me...holy hell, yes he is!_

I reddened further. “I'm...very flattered.” I managed not to stutter. “But I'm not sure that's such a good...idea. Um.” I realized I was fidgeting, and made myself stand still.

Haurchefant seemed delighted with my embarrassment. “Are you shy, my dear?”

“I...” There wasn't enough air here. My breath came shallow and fast. I edged back, only to realize that we were still very close to the wall. My shoulder blade bumped against stone, and Haurchefant raised his hand, placing it on the wall just above my shoulder; the skin of his forearm brushed across my cheek.

His skin was like suede. He smelled of wood smoke and snow and something more, something that made me think of pines and of bobcats hiding in the shadows.

I looked into his eyes, and swallowed hard. “It's been a very...long time since...”

“Well, then, why not end that long wait?” His voice was quiet, but he didn't lean in closer. He watched me, calm, patient. Not pushing.

I shook my head a little. _I can't tell him the truth. He wouldn't believe me, and even if he did, it would probably kill the mood_. _The first time in this life, this body. How can I explain that?_

I realized with a little start that I didn't want to kill the mood. I wanted _him_.

He seemed to get a hint of my inner confusion, and eased back just a breath more. “Shall I make it easier?” He raised his left hand, palm up. “A simple yes or no question. Do you want me to touch you?”

I swallowed again, the flash of desire searing through me like lightning in the desert. I nodded once, and slowly set my hand in his. His callused fingers closed around mine and he smiled.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Still holding my hand, Haurchefant leaned forward, and set his lips against mine. A gentle kiss, barely any pressure: an offer.

Feeling shy after all, I leaned into it a little. His hair drifted across my cheek, softer than grass in the spring. His lips tasted of spice, and I darted my tongue out just a little, licking delicately at them. In response he deepened the kiss, tugging my hand to pull me closer. His other hand dropped down to caress my shoulder gently for a moment, then he slid his hand behind my head.

It felt _wonderful_.

We parted, both of us breathing fast now, and he murmured, “Come to my room?”

I nodded.

He stepped back, and took my hand to lead me deeper into the fortress. His room was one of the ones closest to the door, and he only let go of me long enough to lock and bar the door behind us once we were inside.

The room was warm – a cast iron radiator stood in one corner of the room and a fireplace stood in the other, with a low fire already burning. Other than that, I paid no attention to the room – my focus was only on him.

Haurchefant smiled as I pressed myself against him. His hands caressed my back as he kissed me again, a slow, tasting kiss, and I tugged at the ties of his shirt. I wanted to slide my hands across that suede-smooth skin.

He shrugged out of the tunic as soon as I got it untied, and then slid his hands over my hair, tugging the tie loose and setting the mass of red-gold free. He ran his fingers through it, and smiled. “Lovely,” he murmured. “I've always had a bit of a weakness for red-heads.”

My laugh was breathy, and a little shaky. “Is that so?”

He cupped my face, and stroked his thumbs across my cheeks. “Hm,” he nodded. “And for tall women, women with substance.” He nibbled my bottom lip a little. “You're quite a feast for the senses, my dear.”

He dropped his head lower, to kiss my neck, and I let my head fall back a little. His hands moved down too, and he untied my shirt and slipped it off my shoulders. The cooler air made the goosebumps rise on my arms and I shivered a little.

Haurchefant kissed my collarbone, and then straightened up. “Come,” he told me, and led me to sit on the bed.

Once I had sat down, he knelt in front of me and tugged my boots off. I played with his hair a little. I felt I had to be careful – it was so very fine! I didn't want to pull at it and hurt him.

When he had set my boots aside, he got up and sat on the bed next to me. I turned toward him, sliding my arms around him. I could see tiny white scars here and there, and kissed them, feeling curious and yet still a little nervous. I wished abruptly that I could remember more about my various past “lives.” I could call on the accumulated knowledge of gods-knew-how-many centuries of combat, why couldn't I also have just a little bit of the same recall for things like _this_?

_Oh well, guess I'll have to experiment_.

And so, experimentally, I put out my tongue and just barely licked at the skin around his nipple. Not quite over it directly – something told me that it might be too sensitive. Haurchefant tensed and then chuckled.

“No fair, I can't do the same to you yet.”

I sat up, and tugged my camisole off, ignoring the twinge from my arm. He grinned, pleased, and slid his hands up my rib cage, cupping my breasts in his palms. He admired them, and kissed each nipple once, before leaning forward and claiming my mouth again.

Then he pushed me, gently, so that I was lying on the bed.

He stretched himself out beside me, and we lay like that for a time, fingers touching, exploring, caressing. When my hands sought out the ties of his trousers, he clicked his tongue at me. “Not so fast,” he told me, a teasing tone to his voice. “Ladies first...”

I mumbled, a wordless protest, but he gently tugged my hands away, and inched down in the bed. I stroked his shoulders, his hair, anything I could reach, as he moved lower and lower, kissing me here and there along the way. His breath tickled my belly, and I suppressed a giggle as I looked down at him, craning my neck a little.

He half-crouched, and grinned up at me as he took the end of the leather tie in his teeth. He tugged, once. Even as the tie came loose, my breath caught in my chest a little. Fascinated and bemused, I could only watch as he delicately pulled the strings out completely from the grommets, and tossed the leather aside. He hooked his fingers into the waist of my trousers, and I lifted my hips without a word.

He yanked them off of me, his expression fierce and wicked for a moment as he threw them almost halfway across the room. I laughed a little, breathlessly, and tried to reach for him, but he wasn't done yet. He slid down just a little farther and lay almost on his belly, and nudged my leg so that I bent my knee.

He slid his hand along my thigh, and teased the fine hairs across my mound. I groaned, biting my lip, and he looked up at me, his silver eyes gleaming in the light. He kept his eyes on mine, and slowly kissed the flesh of my inner thigh, before opening his mouth and ever so gently biting me.

I yelped, hands knotting on the blanket. “What..!”

He moved lower, and did it again. I moaned, almost a cry, my hips moving without my control. I pushed at him with my leg, but it was a feeble motion. I wasn't sure if I wanted to push him away or pull him in closer.

The curve of his lips was the most wicked thing I had ever seen. Then, he dropped his head.

The touch of his mouth on my most sensitive flesh was so intense it nearly hurt, and I let out a sharp cry, my hands scrabbling at the bed, fingers like claws. I tossed my head, gasping for breath, as he began to torment me in the most wonderful way. He licked, delicate little brush-strokes almost, but not quite, reaching my clitoris. In moments I was begging him, urging him on with my hips and my moans, desperate for him to touch me where I wanted it the most.

When at last he obliged me, I clenched my teeth, hissing, my legs tensing across his shoulders. His fingers dug into my buttocks as he continued, and I felt him groan in response to my cries of rising pleasure. The sensation sent me over the edge, and I came, heels digging into his back. I arched, my hands yanking the blankets loose.

The moment that the first wave of pleasure had passed over me, Haurchefant moved up my body, like an irresistible storm front. He guided one of my legs, keeping it over his shoulder, bending me.

Still trembling with after-shocks from my orgasm, I panted for air, and tried to focus on his face. The fire was behind him, casting his face into shadow, and all I saw was the ethereal glow as his hair picked up the light. And then I felt him against me, and cried out again.

He wasn't gentle now. His motions were sure and swift and devastating. I clutched at his arms as he entered me, nails digging into his skin. He felt enormous and I wanted all of him. He gripped my hips, and groaned.

Sweat slicked our bodies, and I slid my leg off his shoulder so that I could wrap both legs around him. My hands fell away, beating on the mattress as I rocked against him. His strokes were steady, hard, but I demanded more.

Growling, he once more obliged my demands. He changed position a little, sliding his hands up and under my shoulder blades, burying his face against my neck. I wrapped my arms around him and flexed my legs, moving in rhythm with him. My nails scored his back. His hair was a veil across my eyes.

I quivered as I approached a second orgasm. Even as I tensed I felt Haurchefant's body reach the same goal. He groaned against my neck as he came inside me, and feeling him that way brought me over the edge as well. I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't even think. He stayed inside me, as we clutched each other, and every little motion either of us made seemed to prolong the waves of pleasure.

But at last, he slid free of me, and leaned up on his hands to look down at me.

He stroked sweat-damp hair away from my face, and ran his thumb across my bottom lip. Then he shifted to lie beside me, and gathered me to him. I rubbed my head against his chest.

“You said it had been a long time,” he murmured into my hair. “That wasn't true, was it?”

I started to lift my head, but he tightened his arms around me. “I didn't lie,” I told him.

“All right.” His voice was calm. “What didn't you tell me, then?”

I pushed against him so that he would let me shift back and look at him. “What are you talking about, specifically?”

He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. His silver eyes were lambent, and he wore a very slight frown. “I've been with virgins before,” he told me, voice still soft. “And you are – well, _were_ – one.”

“No...” I bit my lip. “It's complicated. And kind of strange.” I eyed him. “I don't think you'll believe me.”

“Why not tell me and see?”

“The simplest version is, this isn't my first time around.” I wiggled my hand, making a face. “I guess you could call it reincarnation, but I remember things. Like – these are _my_ memories. But I also know they are memories of events that happened centuries ago. Or just a few years.”

“What, like the Warriors of Light?”

I simply held his gaze, and waited for him to get it.

“...Oh.” He propped his head up on his hand. “You _are_ a Warrior of Light.”

“The.” I corrected him gently. “I don't know if there were more at some point, but my memories say it's been...just me. For a long time.”

He blinked slowly, taking that in. “And so you...”

“I've done this before,” I said, trailing one finger down his chest. “Just...I hadn't done it in, well, this life.”

“No wonder you were nervous.”

I blushed. “That wasn't...the only reason.”

His smile returned. “Do tell.”

I made an exasperated noise. “I don't think your ego needs that much feeding, my lord.”

He just laughed, and let me snuggle up again. For a while we just lay there, until I yawned hugely.

“You need rest,” he observed.

“So do you.”

“Well, under the covers, then. You're getting chilled.”

I helped him finagle the blankets so that we were covered, and then tucked myself against him, little-spoon style, and wriggled a little.

“You'd best be careful,” he muttered, kissing the point of my shoulder. “There's a dangerous dragon in here, you know. Waking it up means you don't get any rest.”

I laughed, low in my throat, but my eyes were too heavy, and sleep grabbed me before I could come up with a sassy reply.


	3. Leave Taking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That great morning after feeling...

I knew I was alone before I opened my eyes.

The bed covers were tucked around me.

My clothes were laid across the single wooden chair in the room, innocently, as if last night had been only a dream. My pack and all my things rested by the door, just as if this were any room in the keep and not Haurchefant's room.

I sat up, and glanced around as I scraped my hair back, out of my face.

Everything was the same as it had been – except that he was gone.

The bandage on my arm was loose. I took it off and rolled it up loosely. I took a look, and nodded. The skin of my arm was completely clear, as if I'd never been burned. All the poultice had done, really, was stain the linen a little bit. Such healing was one of the aspects of being what I was – the chosen of the Mother Crystal, the Warrior of Light.

Sometimes I hated that title. The fame was annoying, and useless – at no time had I ever been able to turn my fame into something of real worth, like coin or loyalty. And I knew that should I die, no one would remember me anyway. It made the adulation taste of bitter ashes in my mouth.

Bitter or not, I knew I'd continue to nod and accept the duties that folk laid on my shoulders. How could I turn them away? They didn't know _me_ , Berylla, they didn't see me as a person. But they trusted the Warrior, they placed their faith and their hope in that symbol that looked so much like me. And they'd trust the Warrior every time, in every life, regardless of what I might look like. The _office_ was the important thing; the _person_ just...wasn't.

I got up and went to the chair. I slipped on my underthings first, and grabbed my hair tie.

As I brushed my hair and put it into its usual tail, I looked at the table that stood against the wall.

The small table held a few papers, but prominently placed was a sheet of paper rolled up into a sort of scroll. It was tied shut with the leather laces of my trousers.

I stifled a giggle, and picked it up.

_Berylla. I hope you rested well. I have written the letter for Lord Durendaire, and Francel was kind enough to write his letter before returning to his usual post at the Locks. Both letters are with me, so you may come pick them up when you are rested and ready to leave for Whitebrim._

_ I suspect we may not meet again for some time. Fury keep you. _

I sat down on the chair to re-lace my pants, and thought about the short letter.

_He didn't say anything about last night_.

Well, but why _should_ he say anything? Perhaps committing such things to writing was a bad idea.

_Just look at how these Ishgardian Houses treat each other. Maybe admitting to sleeping with me – a foreigner and probably still suspected of heresy – maybe that could pose some danger to Haurchefant._

I sighed and got dressed. _Or maybe I'm just overthinking it_.

I picked up my things, and resolved to not say anything. We'd had a night together. It had been good. Okay, it had been _fantastic,_ but that didn't give me any rights to the man. He had a job to do, and so did I.

With a last deep breath, I stepped out into the hall.

The snow crunched under my feet, and I was glad of the bright sunlight. It let me hide my expression behind a squint as Alphinaud all but leaped upon me the moment I entered the main courtyard.

“Where have you been, Berylla? Have you had any luck at all?”

“Nice to see you too,” I grunted. “When the hell did you get here?”

“We arrived an hour ago.” The silver haired youth looked up at me, blue eyes keen. “I heard quite a few tales over breakfast.”

My stomach growled. Loudly.

I couldn't help it, I burst into laughter, and Alphinaud's frown dissolved, though he rolled his eyes.

“Look, I'll fill you in, but I just got up. I did get us some useful information finally, at least. Is Cid...?”

“He's still in the mess hall.”

We walked to the mess hall. Usually I would have been teasing Alphinaud, but I was quiet, wondering just what sort of tales might have been going around. _Don't be an idiot, no one here knows you were with Haurchefant last night, even if it mattered._

Cid waved to us, and I came over to the table where he sat.

“Did you leave anything?” I asked.

He took a big swallow of tea and laughed a little. “Good morning. And yes, there's plenty, so long as you didn't want eggs.”

“Yeah, no eggs for me.” I sat, and made good use of my reach to snag oat-cakes and sausages and the last two biscuits, piling them up on a clean plate. Alphinaud's mouth twisted a little as he regarded the small mountain of food, but I'd long since gotten over _anybody's_ censure regarding how much I ate. I dug right in, and didn't speak again until I'd polished off my last oat-cake.

I sipped my tea, and cleared my throat. “So, finally I found someone who clapped eyes on the Enterprise.”

Cid sat up straight. “And...?”

“And, it apparently rests at some place called the Stone Vigil, which is currently not open for public access, due to its being full to the brim with cranky dragon-kind.”

“Damn.”

“So who do we petition for access?” Alphinaud asked.

“Lord Durendaire is in charge, it seems. He's at Whitebrim. I'm to collect a pair of letters that may smooth our way somewhat.” _I hope_.

“What about that young fellow? Francis? The one being accused of heresy.”

“Francel,” I corrected Cid. “And his name is cleared, for the moment at least. Turns out at least one – probably more – of the good inquisitor's own guards were in fact the heretical ones.”

I related the basics of yesterday's fight, leaving out the fact that I'd slipped up and got myself injured.

The two of them nodded as I finished, “So that's that, for the moment. I don't know where that Guillaime fellow got off to, nor do I much care, so long as I don't have to see him again.”

Alphinaud's brow furrowed. I knew that look. He wouldn't ask me questions right now – maybe not at all – but the Inquisitor posed a mystery, and now Alphinaud's attention had been drawn to that mystery. I couldn't begin to guess how many different things Alphinaud kept track of, in that white head of his. All I knew, was that I couldn't ever win a game of chess against him. He was always two moves ahead of everyone, and he'd doubtless read more books than I'd ever seen in my life.

Despite all his knowledge, all his contacts, all his clever plans – he was still never satisfied. Sometimes, I wondered why he pushed himself so hard...

For a moment, my sight faded.

_Machine oil, both a stench and a bitter taste in the back of my throat._

_ A faint hum and throb of massive generators, a sound felt through the feet as much as heard. _

_ Fading cerulean light reflecting off the tears flowing down Alphinaud's face, matching his sister's. _

I shook my head to clear it, and pulled my mind back to the present.

Another aspect of being “the Warrior of Light” was an annoying tendency to have odd visions. I had yet to figure out why they happened at all, and which ones were simply memories of things I'd experienced in some past life. Ones like that were the most unsettling. They felt...as if they hadn't happened yet. _Keep your gifts to yourselves_ , I wanted to tell whatever gods might be listening. _I don't want anything to do with prophecy_.

Too bad the gods weren't in the habit of listening to me. I looked at Alphinaud one more time, then shrugged a little. _If he comes up with any brilliant notions about that inquisitor, I'm sure he'll tell me in due time._

I finished off my mug of tea. “Time to collect those letters and get going, I guess.”

Cid got up, and Alphinaud followed suit. The two of them walked slightly behind me as we headed for the main hall.

Compared to yesterday's icy winds and light snow, it was a pleasantly warm day. The sun caressed my skin and made the snow sparkle; I could hear the drip of water as the few icicles that had formed last night melted. Alphinaud still shivered a little, and I kept my smile to myself.

We stepped into the main hall to see Haurchefant handing off a stack of papers to Hourlinet.

He waved us over. Hourlinet passed us on his way out, and I exchanged a friendly nod with the older knight. He moved slowly, his leg still bound, but clearly he was able enough for the light task of carrying reports.

Haurchefant offered us tea, but all three of us declined. “So then, you're ready to make your way to Whitebrim, I take it?”

“Yes.” Alphinaud answered, though Haurchefant was looking at me. “I am given to understand that you've letters of introduction for us?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Haurchefant plucked two scrolls from beside him, and handed them over. One was tied with a brown silk ribbon, the other with a green one. Alphinaud took them, and tucked them into his belt pouch with a nod of thanks.

“We thank you for all your help, Lord Haurchefant,” the young Elezen said, with one of his better diplomatic smiles. “You've been very generous. I hope we will work with you again in future.”

“As do I, Master Leveilleur.” Haurchefant smiled, as cheerful as ever, and gave us a brief bow. “Let me not keep you from your journey. Whitebrim is not far; you should be there well before evening.”

Cid and Alphinaud both nodded, and turned to leave. I hesitated.

Haurchefant smiled at me, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you most especially,” he said to me. “Your deeds here will not be forgotten. Were it not for you, Lord Francel would surely have died defending the honor of his house─and I might well have perished at the hands of a heretic and his wyvern.”

I shook my head, managing a smile. I wanted to say something, but couldn't find any words.

The door opened and shut; I realized that Alphinaud and Cid had walked outside without me.

Haurchefant leaned on his desk. “Truly,” he said, in a tone meant only for me to hear, “thank you.”

I searched his face, and with a tiny twinge realized there was nothing there to see. _Once is all you get_ , I told myself. _Be glad of it, and go_.

So I made myself smiled. “It's me who should be thanking you.”

He winked at me. “I'm sure you'll be back this way, one of these days.”

“There's a high probability,” I agreed, and stepped back. “Walk in the light, Lord Haurchefant.”

“May Halone guide you, Berylla Seahawk.”

I turned, and walked outside.


	4. A Cold Hatred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berylla finally returns to Coerthas, but not for a pleasant visit

_It's been weeks – no, months? How long, since last I stood on these stones?_ I looked around the courtyard. Nothing had really changed, not even Alphinaud, who stood there shivering, as he had the last time we'd traveled in Coerthas. _Honestly, you'd think with all his money, he could just afford to have a coat made that matched his outfit, or something_.

I turned my attention from him and back to the job at hand. Haurchefant was coming towards us, and Alphinaud straightened, putting on his diplomat face.

I let my friend talk, and just looked at Haurchefant. He looked tired, but otherwise much the same as he had the day I'd left here. His expression was cheerful enough as he informed Alphinaud that a caravan carrying various supplies was in fact on its way to the Rising Stones. “It left this morning and should be there by nightfall, in fact.”

Alphinaud nodded. “That is quite a relief, and I thank you very much for your support. Moving our operations to Mor Dhona will, we hope, make things easier for everyone.”

“And leave you less beholden to some who may be less than trustworthy,” Haurchefant nodded. He laughed when Alphinaud started a little. “Come now, Master Leveilleur. Anyone with the least bit of knowledge of the ways of the world understands how far any Uldahn merchant can be trusted, be his reputation never so pristine.”

“About as far as you can throw him,” I commented, with a grin.

Both of them laughed.

“It is true enough after all,” Alphinaud shook his head. “But now, let us move on to why you summoned us, my lord.”

Haurchefant grinned, like a boy with a wonderful surprise. “Indeed. As my message stated, the Holy See has at last sent a representative to speak with you – with the Scions in specific, and with the Alliance in a more general way.”

Alphinaud's expression stayed in control, but I saw his hands shake a little as he nodded politely. Back at the Rising Stones, he'd been all but vibrating with excitement about this overture. I was glad he was staying in control. The Antecedent's words of caution had not gone unheard.

“The ambassador is someone I know well,” Haurchefant told Alphinaud, with a quick glance in my direction. I tilted my head, but he was continuing to speak. “He is a man of singular integrity and determination, and has long been something of an admirer of the Scions.” His eyes twinkled with mischief as he met my eyes. “Also of yourself, Berylla.”

“Me?” I shook my head. “I can't imagine what there is to admire about me specifically. Everything I've done of note has been directly connected with the Scions.”

“Oh, not everything.” I could hear the laughter in his voice, and I wrinkled my brow at him, wishing he'd explain himself. Instead, he seemed delighted to have confused me, and turned his attention back to Alphinaud.

“He is due to arrive at any moment. In fact, my orders are to bring the two of you to the private audience chamber – the intercessory, we call it.”

“Well then,” Alphinaud made an elegant “let's get on with it” sort of gesture, “Lead on. Please.”

The intercessory, as it turned out, was quite literally just around the corner from the main hall where Haurchefant spent so much time. We stepped inside, and as the door shut, a remarkable silence enveloped us.

“Just how thick are the walls here?” I asked.

“Oh, about as thick as the walls around the armory and the strong room,” Haurchefant answered casually. “It's also the most comfortable of the three.”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud made a direct line for the fireplace, and stood as close as he could without catching some piece of his clothes on fire.

Haurchefant and I traded a glance and turned a bit so that Alphinaud wouldn't see our grins.

“I would much rather have invited you to enjoy our hospitality for a time,” Haurchefant murmured to me. His eyes gleamed as he set one hand on my shoulder. “It is good to see you again.”

“I wish I could have come back sooner.” I sighed a little. Then I brightened. “But perhaps there will be a chance, later...”

“I certainly hope so.”

Before either of us could say more, the door opened.

I stepped back, letting Alphinaud take the central role once more, as introductions were made.

As polite phrases were exchanged, I took a good look at Ser Aymeric, the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights – servant of the Holy See – one of the more powerful men in Ishgard, if Alphinaud's sources were accurate. I'd expected an old man, someone stiff with dignity and possibly wearing gem encrusted rings, that he'd expect us to kiss.

But the tall Elezen looked only a little older than Haurchefant. His hair was curly and cut short. He wore a long coat of deep blue velvet, positively covered in gold bullion embroidery – fully as ostentatious as any bishop's robe. And yet he wore it with grace and ease – it was clear that this was no ceremonial robe. It really was his everyday working garb. The sword at his side, in an intricately decorated scabbard, was just as clearly a familiar weapon that had seen plenty of battles.

Haurchefant introduced Alphinaud first – as expected, of course – but Ser Aymeric turned to me without prompting. “And you must be Berylla Seahawk, yes?”

I nodded. His voice was dark and smooth, like rich coffee. His eyes were blue – a blue like none I'd seen before. Not the ice blue of so many of his countrymen, nor the cornflower color of Alphinaud's eyes. No, this was blue like the sky above the ocean...

I shook myself. _Pay attention, damn it. Eye color is absolutely the last thing you need to be thinking about!_ I tried to summon up something polite to say.

But his next words scattered my thoughts like seed on the wind.

“I am not too proud to admit that I have followed _your_ activities with an interest bordering on fascination. I was very glad to learn that you would be joining us.”

I struggled to keep my jaw from falling open. Completely taken by surprise, I settled for a silent nod and a small, hopefully friendly smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Haurchefant's wicked smile flash across his lips. Somehow I just knew that the silver haired knight had been creating some sort of mischief. _What have you been up to, Haurchefant?_

We took seats – all of us except the stone faced lady-knight who seemed to be Aymeric's personal bodyguard.

I listened with half an ear to the diplomatic wrangling between Alphinaud and Ser Aymeric. I had no trouble following the conversation, but I had nothing to say in particular. It was far more interesting to watch the two of them, circling each other verbally like duelists. I didn't need to wonder about Alphinaud; the boy had a true flair for this sort of thing, and anyway I knew him, knew his habits and knew what cards he was keeping close to his chest.

Ser Aymeric was every bit as good – no, better. _This is what Alphinaud might be like, in another four years or so, if he doesn't get himself killed_. The man used words and gesture with precision and intent, and his composure did not slip even when Alphinaud's prodding reached the point of rudeness. They chatted, debated, suggested; 

I found myself noticing other things, as well. How long and elegant Aymeric's hands were. The angle of his chin, and how firm his lips looked. I yanked my attention back to the conversation. _What has gotten into me?_

But, at long last, the two of them reached an agreement. I had the feeling that Ser Aymeric had known what the outcome of this meeting would be long before he set foot in Camp Dragonhead. But, he was really only asking that the Scions and their assorted friends in Mor Dhona keep an eye on the hulking ruin that also served as the resting place for an ancient dragon. He wasn't asking us to in there and fight monsters. Such a vigil was a small price to pay for the continuing support from Dragonhead.

The door to the intercessory slammed open, and a guard rushed in. Haurchefant stood up immediately. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“The – the caravan, my lord! It's been attacked!”

Alphinaud and I shot to our feet. “What!”

Haurchefant went with his knight, and I started to follow – but then I paused, looking back at Alphinaud.

Ser Aymeric spoke up. “My second-in-command will accompany you. Master Leveilleur and I can conclude our conversation, and will join you anon.”

Alphinaud nodded to me, and I returned the nod. With the briefest of bows to Ser Aymeric, I turned and hurried out of the room.

_Who, or what, had attacked that caravan? It had been guarded by half a dozen men in Ishgardian colors. Only the most suicidal of bandits would dare take on that many veteran knights..._

The report was grim. A group of people had approached, and had been apparently taken for pilgrims. “My men are conducting an investigation already,” Haurchefant told me.

“Then I'll go join them,” I said instantly. “I can get there faster than any of the rest of you.”

“Excellent idea!” Haurchefant smiled at me. “Thank you.”

“Are you quite certain you will be equal to the task ahead?” The lady-knight inquired.

I met her eyes – a hazel-brown color, muddy with concern. “I've faced a lot worse than snow and some dead bodies, my lady.”

She nodded once, and then turned to Haurchefant, speaking to him about troop distribution or some other such thing. I quit listening immediately and headed for the door.

Joy was surprised to see me, but more than willing for a good long run. I pushed her, taking the back ways I'd learned in my time here before. She whistled, happy to stretch her legs. There had been too much of short trips and long rests, she seemed to say to me, as she flipped her wings and generally romped her way along the path.

But as we approached the overturned wagon, she slowed, and her whistle turned distressed.

When I saw why, I made sure to tether her a good distance away from the scene of slaughter.

I regarded the mess, hands on hips, for a long moment. The knight on watch saw me and approached. “There's nothing for you to see here, miss – oh.” He blinked, recognizing me.

“Hello, Hourlinet.” I gave him a half smile. “I'm here to help, if I can. Tell me what you know.”

I listened, then paced across the snow, careful where I put my feet. Blood soaked the snow, and I could see where men had bled out where they'd fallen. I was grateful that the bodies had already been dealt with. The blows had clearly been vicious, judging by the sheer amount of gore. I swallowed a little when I got to the wagon-birds. The burial detail was only now finishing with the dead men, so the birds remained.

They'd been gutted. Absolutely unnecessary – barbaric, and stupid to boot.

“Why not just take the wagons?” I muttered. “Or they could have stolen the damn birds. This is...just a waste.”

“Done for pure spite, if you ask me,” Hourlinet answered. “Heretics.” He spat into the snow. “Vicious fools, all of them.”

I shook my head. “Well, there's not much I can do, after all, is there. No tracks to follow, no hostages or wounded to question.”

“There was one survivor,” Hourlinet told me. “The boy's over at the Observatorium, in their infirmary. He might have a few details to share.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't do more.”

“Don't be sorry,” Hourlinet clapped me on the shoulder. “It'll be enough if you can find the bastards that did this and make _them_ sorry.”

I nodded, uncomfortable with the cold hatred in his tone, and went back to my mount.

“Come on, Joy.” I took her in a wide loop around the carnage, but even once we were well past, she continued to fret, muttering and shying at random shadows. I could hardly blame her. She was fully battle trained, just the same as I was. But the sight of those poor birds unnerved us both.

When I finally reached the Observatorium, I flagged down a stable boy. “Please see to her,” I said. “She's had a bit of a fright.”

The boy nodded, and took her off toward the small stable, while I turned my steps to the infirmary.

The soldier there was lying on a bed, a bandage wrapping his head. Dark blood had soaked through the dressing already, and I spoke quietly, trying not to upset the poor lad any more than I had to. But my questions brought back the attack all too vividly for him. “They would have killed me,” he whispered as he finished his tale. “I couldn't...I had to just lie still. I had to!”

“Of course you had to, or you wouldn't have been able to give me this information.”

“What good will it do? How can you stop them, if they really believe they can bring back Shiva?”

_Gods, he's just a boy._ I tried to summon up the kind of smile that came so easily to – damn it, almost any of the other Scions. “I'll talk to Lord Haurchefant,” I told him, “And I promise you, I will personally find these people, and deal with them.”

He gazed up at me, wavering between doubt and belief. I tried again. “You trust Lord Haurchefant, don't you?”

“Yes...” The boy sighed. “I will have faith.” He turned his face away.

I didn't know what else to say, and awkwardly patted his shoulder before standing up.

_Berylla, you couldn't be any worse with people if you were a kobold_.

But, I headed back to Camp Dragonhead with the scant information I'd managed to scrounge. Something in what I'd learned _had_ to be of help.


	5. Frustration

I walked into the main hall, and immediately saw Haurchefant and Alphinaud standing over the tactical table. The lady-knight stood off to one side, looking on impassively.

Alphinaud looked up, and waved me over. “What news?”

Haurchefant went over to his desk and poured a mug of tea for me, while I told them what little I'd learned. I took the mug from him with a grateful smile as I finished speaking.

Haurchefant didn't smile back. His brow was dark with rage. “It seems the Lady Iceheart does not scruple to sully her hands with blood,” he growled.

Alphinaud looked thoughtful. “Who is this 'Shiva' the heretics spoke of?”

At this, the lady-knight stirred. “Have you not read a single line of the _Enchiridion_ , Master Alphinaud? Shiva was a traitor to kith and kin─an apostate who lay down with dragons.” Her voice dripped with disdain for Alphinaud's ignorance.

Alphinaud raised one eyebrow, his spine stiffening a little. But before he could retort, Haurchefant spoke up.

“Now, now, Lady Lucia, we cannot expect all foreigners to know Ishgardian scripture so well─particularly when it concerns the patron saints of heretics.” He smiled politely, but his tone held no patience.

Alphinaud's voice cracked a little. “Wait─you say she is their _patron saint_? Oh, no... It all makes sense now.” He bit his lip, then demanded, “Lord Haurchefant─what was the caravan's cargo?”

“Ah, if I recall correctly, the Diamond Forge had requested a rather large quantity of crystals.”

Alphinaud let out a curse. “Do you not see?” He glanced around at us and blew out an exasperated breath at our blank looks. “Iceheart and her followers intend to _summon_ Shiva, as a beast tribe would a primal! Why else would they go to such lengths to secure crystals?”

Lucia blinked slowly, and then turned a little pale. “I shall inform the lord commander at once. Lord Haurchefant, you would agree that discretion is of paramount concern?”

“Of course.” Haurchefant glanced at Alphinaud. “I trust we can count on your continued support?”

Alphinaud crossed his arms, raising his chin proudly. “The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are sworn to combat the primal threat. Our support is a given.”

He snatched up a quill and a piece of paper, beginning to write with swift, neat motions. “I will send word to my brethren the Rising Stones. Our entire order must turn its efforts to the prevention of this summoning.”

He paused, and looked up at me. “Naturally, that includes you─though I am sure you would not miss this for the world.”

I showed him my teeth. “No. I wouldn't.”

Of course it wasn't so simple as all that. The first problem, still, was finding out just how Lady Iceheart and her minions were able to vanish into the rocks like ghosts.

Alphinaud had summoned up a group of his Crystal Braves, and Ser Aymeric had brought in a contingent of his Temple Knights. Between those two groups and the forces already in the area – both from Dragonhead and Whitebrim – surely no bunch of scruffy heretics could hide for long. Or so Haurchefant fondly hoped, as he sent us all out on various patrols.

The first round of searches went about as I had expected – meaning, no one found a blasted thing. At the end of that day, we returned to Whitebrim, weary and sore and frustrated. Ser Aymeric and Alphinaud went up to the third floor to speak with Lord Drillemont.

I knew I should join them, but I just couldn't make myself face all those stairs. _I must have slipped on ice and fallen on rocks a hundred times today. What a bloody waste of time._

Instead I sat in the first-floor kitchen, slumped at one of the long tables, with roaring ovens at my back and a mug of hot tea in my hands, trying to chase the ice out of my bones. Our quarry called herself Lady Iceheart, but she clearly had ice for blood. I shivered and hunched my shoulders. _Maybe I shouldn't tease Alphinaud about his choice of clothing quite so much._

I must have zoned out for a time; when a hand touched my shoulder, I started into full awareness with a little gasp. Alphinaud stood there, his lips still a little blue. He looked even more miserable than me. “Ser Aymeric sends his regards,” the white haired young man told me, “and sends this as well.” He lifted a metal flask, giving it a small shake so that I could hear the liquid sloshing inside. Then, he handed it to me. “He says for us to put it into our tea. I'm going to beg the cook for fresh mugs for the both of us.” He scooped up my half full (stone cold) mug and walked off.

I uncapped the flask and sniffed. The heady scent of brandy wafted up to me. The cap was large, and I tilted it a little, seeing tiny marks on the inside of it. _Meant as a measuring cap then, good_. I poured out a dose, filling the cap to its top mark. The liquid was the same color as fine amber honey.

Alphinaud returned, plunking down two mugs on the table. Then he flopped onto the bench beside me. I dumped the cap-full into my tea, then poured him the same dose. He nodded at me, gratefully sipping. I put the cap back on, carefully making sure it was tightly sealed.

The brandy was strong. _Damn_ strong. But its flavor blended with the tea in a peculiar but tasty way. Even with the heat, I sipped eagerly, feeling warmth returning to my limbs at long last.

“I don't know how they stand it,” Alphinaud muttered to me. “I'm _never_ going to thaw out.” He had finished his tea, and was chafing his hands along his arms, looking glum. He had stood straight and unruffled out there in the field, but for now, he wasn't in “show mode,” and I felt a slight pang of sympathy for him.

Only a _slight_ pang. “They're dressed for the weather,” I pointed out, teasing him gently.

“Humph.”

I took pity on my friend and put an arm around him, sharing what little body heat I had managed to build up. Alphinaud leaned into me a little, too weary to worry about dignity for the moment.

We both looked up to see Ser Aymeric descending the last few stairs and approaching us. “In truth, we are bred to this clime, and even outsiders who do dress for the weather tend to struggle.” He came to stand across the table from us. I handed over his flask, which he accepted with a mild smile.

“One wonders how many generations _that_ took,” Alphinaud murmured.

Aymeric laughed, and Alphinaud's neck flushed. “Forgive me, Ser Aymeric...”

“Not at all,” the Lord Commander waved Alphinaud's apology away. “The mountains of Coerthas have always been harsh. But only since the Calamity have our winters been quite _this_ brutal.” He shot a quick grin at me, as if sharing some sort of in-joke. “We Ishgardians are a hardy lot.”

“We Sharlayans are not,” Alphinaud answered, but he was smiling.

“Can you manage one more trip out into the snow?” Aymeric asked. “If you can, I've arranged quarters at Camp Dragonhead.”

I traded looks with Alphinaud. Staying at Whitebrim meant sharing the bunks here in the tower. Both of us turned back to Aymeric and nodded.

He beckoned. “Come, then. Our escort is ready and waiting.”

We rode back to Dragonhead on courier's mounts – Joy had already been tucked up in the more than adequate stable, whistling in her sleep. I leaned over the neck of my borrowed mount, eyes narrowed against the wind. These birds were nothing like Joy – who, for her kind, was muscular and tall, not unlike her rider. No, these were racing birds, and they sped along the ice-rutted roads with long strides, wings spread a bit for balance, vying with each other for the lead. They were obviously well adapted to the cold and enjoying themselves.

The wind of our passing removed any chance of conversation, so the trip was made in silence. But we reached Dragonhead in a third of the time it had taken us to get to Whitebrim this morning.

We clattered into the main courtyard to find stable boys waiting for us; the moment we dismounted, a pair of knights stepped forward to show us to our quarters for the night. My room was the first one we reached, and I nodded to Alphinaud and to Aymeric before stepping inside. “Good night.”

I set down my things near the door, and regarded the bed. _I should sleep. I'm tired, and I'm cold, and I really should just get some sleep._

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. I started to pace, then stopped myself, realizing the room was perhaps three strides across. Not good for pacing. I tugged at my hair tie, and tossed it onto the tiny table beside the bed.

_It's late, Berylla, go to sleep_.

I opened the door and stepped out into the hall. I remembered where Haurchefant's room was without trouble.

I turned the corner, and saw that his door was open, firelight spilling out into the hall. I started forward, only to freeze in my tracks as someone came into the light.

_What's Aymeric doing here?_

The Lord Commander no longer had on the gold-embroidered outer coat. Instead, he had on only a dark blue silk shirt and a pair of dark trousers. The shirt was open more than halfway, and he didn't have any shoes on.

He walked up to Haurchefant's door and stopped just outside the threshold.

“Took you long enough,” I heard Haurchefant say, his voice full of laughter. “Get in here.”

Aymeric stepped inside, and the door closed. I took two steps forward before I heard the bar drop into place.

I backed away, then turned and went back to my room, trying not to feel like I was running.

I shut my door and put my back up against it, covering my mouth with my hand.

_Haurchefant and Aymeric?_

Bitter disappointment warred with a weird fascination in my mind. I tried to shove both feelings away.

I took off my boots and got ready for bed. Brushed out my hair, made sure my axe was clean – polished even – and then finally made myself lie down under the covers and blow out the candle.

The bed was warm. The dark and the quiet were soothing.

I couldn't get comfortable.

_Maybe they're just having a quiet game of cards._

_ With the door locked. _

_ And Aymeric half undressed. _

_ “ _ Damn it!”

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I put my head in my hands, pressing my thumbs against my eyelids gently. My mind wouldn't stop trying to imagine what was happening in that room. Were they kissing right now? Was Aymeric running his hands over that suede-smooth skin?

_Gods, Berylla, get your shit together. You don't have any claim on Haurchefant. You had a night together, months ago. You have no right to get jealous._

_You have no business wondering what they're doing to each other._

I stood up. Put all my clothes back on. Grabbed my axe.

When I stepped out into the hall, I deliberately took the longer way to get outside, so I wouldn't pass by that door. I wasn't sure _what_ I wanted to do, but I was positive that anything I did towards Haurchefant right now would be the wrong choice.

So I trekked back out, into the snow, and went hunting. If nothing else, I could work out my frustration while also bringing back something useful for the keep.


	6. Apology

I came back in just after sunrise, and my first stop was the back courtyard, where the big ovens poked out, and the messiest of kitchen work got done.

The freckle faced young man stared at the pile of dead animals, then raised his astonished gaze to me. “Um, miss...?”

“What?”

He gulped. I scratched at an itchy spot on my cheek, and blood flaked away from my skin.

“I'm sure you know what to do with mutton, kid. Or you know who to get hold of to deal with them all. Consider them a gift.”

I turned and walked out of the courtyard and headed for the hot spring. But not the women's area, this time: I walked out the north gate and went out to a relatively remote corner of the pool, farthest from the spot where I knew the men most often did their soaking. I stripped to the skin, stuffing the bloody clothes into my pack, and slid into the water.

I ached, and I was exhausted – exactly the way I wanted to feel. I was too tired to imagine pale hair against dark, or...

_Damn it_.

I ducked my head, and scrubbed my hair and skin ruthlessly. I had dozens of little nicks and cuts – places where branches had lashed me or a claw had landed a glancing blow as I mowed down whatever was in my way. The heat made them sting and ache. The pain drove out the thoughts I didn't want.

Clean, I sat cross legged on a flat stone, the water up to my neck, and shut my eyes. I called up old lessons in meditation, breath control, calm. Just as I had almost managed to get my breathing under control, someone spoke near me.

“Did you kill _every_ karakul in the Highlands last night?”

I stiffened, and opened my eyes slowly, forcing myself to be still.

Haurchefant stood on the edge of the pool, right next to my pack, arms crossed, just looking at me. There was no humor in his eyes, no smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

“No.” I looked at his knees, not his face. I couldn't meet those silver eyes.

“Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?”

“What could possibly be bothering me?” I waved my hand vaguely, water splashing. “We chased ghosts and rumors for an entire day, and we still don't know where to find Lady Iceheart. I'm as bothered by that as anyone else here.”

“You and I both know that isn't the whole truth.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

He glared at me, and I blinked up at him. “Very well.” He leaned down, and snatched the towel off the top of my pack.

“ _Hey!_ ”

“What?”

“What the hell are you doing? I need that!”

“Hm?” He tossed the towel over his shoulder and assumed a casual pose against a big rock, leaning against it. “I don't know what you're talking about, Berylla.”

Now it was my turn to glare.

“Give my towel back,” I growled.

“Answer my question and I may,” he snapped back.

“It's you, all right? _You_!”

I covered my mouth with both hands and turned away, feeling like a complete idiot.

Haurchefant was silent for a long time. I glanced over towards him, through the wet tendrils of my hair. When I saw the pained expression he wore, I felt as if a bucket of ice water had hit me.

He dropped the towel back on top of my pack, and walked away, without saying another word.

_Oh, hell._

I scrambled out of the pool, drying myself as fast as I could and pulling on clothes. Of course, Haurchefant was nowhere to be seen as I made my way back into the keep. I went back into the room I'd been given, to sort out my things. I left most of my gear in the room, and took the filthy clothes to the laundry-women.

Then I turned my steps toward the main hall.

I paused for a moment outside, trying to compose myself. I'd made enough of a stir for one morning.

But as I entered the main hall, I was astonished to see Yaelle standing alone near the desk.

“Good morning,” she greeted me, with a polite smile.

“Where's...?”

“Oh, he's taken the day for himself,” she told me. When I gaped at her, she laughed a little. “He does take a little time for himself, you know.”

“Well, I do need to talk to him, if you could tell me where to find him?”

At that, she paused and tilted her head. “You know, he didn't say? All he mentioned was that he was stopping by the kitchens. Perhaps he mentioned to them?”

“Aren't you...I don't know, worried?”

“Of course not,” Yaelle shook her head. “You can't pin down a man like Lord Haurchefant. If we need him, he will return.” She gave me a sideways glance, and seemed about to say something more.

I turned away before she could speak. “Thank you very much,” I said over my shoulder as I left.

At the kitchens, the pantry maid had spoken to him, and sent me on to Nellie at the infirmary. Nellie, in turn, sent me to speak with Hourlinet on the eastern wall, because Haurchefant had said something about checking in with the watch there.

I climbed the steps to the eastern wall's walk, confused and a little cranky. _What is this nonsense? Some kind of twisted game?_

“Ah, he said you'd be here some time this morning.”

I stared at Hourlinet, mouth open. “What?”

The older knight smiled a little. “Lord Haurchefant left a message with me, saying that he knew you would be looking for him, eventually.”

Feeling thick, I shook my head a little. “He left a message? What message?”

“Here you are.” Hourlinet handed me a slip of paper.

_You should have seen your face. If you_ _think_ _for a moment, you already know where I am. Come find me._

I crumpled the paper and shoved it in my vest pocket. “Thank you,” I told Hourlinet, absently.

I was pretty sure he was chuckling as I turned around and went back down the stairs, but I didn't care at this point. I was too full of conflicting feelings. 

I was tired, horny, and frustrated. I was embarrassed by my outburst, ashamed of my jealousy, and still jealous. I was irritated that Haurchefant seemed to want to play games, and yet I was afraid that he wasn't really playing around. He had reason to be annoyed with me – but was he only annoyed, or had I actually ruined a perfectly good friendship with my bullshit?

I found myself in front of his door, and swallowed hard. My hand shook as I knocked, twice.

Haurchefant opened the door, and stepped to one side, beckoning me in. He had no shirt on, and his expression was carefully neutral.

I obeyed his gesture, and stood awkwardly as he closed the door. My eyes settled on a shirt draped across the chair: dark blue silk.

I felt sick. _I'm an idiot. I should just apologize and get the hell out of here_.

“I just came to,” I began, when his arms went around me.

I stiffened in surprise. “Haurchefant?”

His breath was warm against my cheek, but he didn't speak. I tried to turn, but he tightened his arms around me. He had my arms pinned. I raised my hands, trying to get a grip on his forearms and pry myself loose. “Let go, Haurchefant.”

“Make me.” His growled challenge sparked my frustration and irritation into rage.

I leaned back into him, and jabbed my elbow backwards. He twisted to avoid the blow, and I lifted my knee and stomped down, hard, on his foot.

But his foot wasn't there anymore, and suddenly the room spun as he flipped me and slammed me to the floor. The breath was knocked out of me, and I grunted. My limbs wouldn't respond for a moment – I was hardly at my best, after an all night hunt on top of everything else. By the time I got myself organized to try and hit him again, Haurchefant was straddling me, his legs pinning mine. He held my wrists to the floor, leaning over me, his silver hair tickling my cheek.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I turned my head away and shut my eyes.

“Have I gotten your attention?” His voice was harsh.

I nodded.

“Now, I'm going to ask you again, and you're not going to give me any nonsense. Right?”

“O-Okay.”

“Why are you so upset with me?”

I bit my lip. I felt the blood rising to my face. Humiliation flooded through me as I managed to whisper an answer. “I s-saw Aymeric...coming here. Last night. I was l-looking for you...”

I opened my eyes, and looked up at him, from the corner of my eye. “I was an idiot. Am an idiot. And I got m-mad, and...gods, Haurchefant. I'm sorry. That's all I came to say.” I struggled, weakly. “Can I please get up and l-leave now?”

“No.”

I bit my lip. “W-Why?”

“Because _I_ have a great deal to say to _you_ , and you're going to listen. Look at me, Berylla.”

“I am...”

“ _Look at me_.”

I turned my head, slowly. When I saw the look on his face, I felt as if all the breath had left my body again.

I had expected rage, maybe disgust at my stupid behavior; at the very least impatience, annoyance, at my disrupting his day with childish, foolish bullshit. All I saw in those silver eyes was tenderness. My own eyes stung.

“I'm only going to say this once, so you had better listen.” He leaned down so that his forehead touched mine, his eyes closing. “You are my very dear friend, Berylla. All you ever have to do is ask, and I will give you whatever I can, as many times as I can...” He opened his eyes and lifted his head just a little. “You should have knocked on the door last night.”

“ _What!_ ” I started, and I knew my face was flaming red. “But – but you and...!”

“We wouldn't have minded making room for you.”

“Oh!” I was shocked to my toes. I stared at him, unable to think of anything to say to that astonishing statement.

He smiled tenderly. “It's fascinating to me, how you can be so hard bitten one minute, and so very innocent the next, in the right situation.”

I shook my head. “I d-don't know what you mean.”

“You blush and stammer like a maiden,” he told me. He kissed the corners of my mouth. “It's most charming, really. And you are so transparent, my dear. It's plain as day when you want me.”

“It _is_?” I blushed again. Had it been obvious to everyone I'd talked to this morning?

“It is to me,” he laughed.

“You're making fun of me,” I accused.

“Never.” His smile vanished like frost in the sun. “But I _am_ going to make love to you until you can't see straight.”

His mouth latched onto mine. With a whimper I gave in to his wordless demand.

He released my wrists. He set his weight on one arm, gliding the other palm over my arm and then down to cup my breast. I put my arms around his neck, sighing a little.

I was wearing my usual vest, but the shirt was one of my oldest and loosest and I hadn't bothered tucking it in. He slid his hand underneath, dragging the fabric up and exposing me. I shivered as he rubbed his thumb across my nipple. “Haurchefant...”

“What is it?”

“I...why aren't you mad at me?”

He nuzzled my neck. “Do you want me to be angry with you?”

“Well...no...I just...”

“Ah,” he chuckled, his breath tickling my ear. “You want to be punished.”

My whole body quivered, and he laughed again, low in his throat.

Then he shifted his weight, and moved to one side of me. Kneeling, he tugged my hands, helping me sit up.

“You just don't know what you want, do you? Not today, at any rate.”

After a moment of thought, I nodded. “I think maybe you're right. I can't...seem to think straight around you right now.”

“How very flattering.” He stroked my cheek. “Shall I take charge of you?”

I eyed him, and nodded cautiously. “Yes?”

He kissed the backs of my hands, and stood up. “Then I'll tell you just what to do.”

He went over to the fireplace and leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms and looking at me with a lazy smile. “Get up.”

As if in a trance, I obeyed him.

“Take off your clothes. All of them.”

I hesitated, then obeyed. I felt like I was sleepwalking, and at the same time, my heart was pounding with excitement. I didn't know what to expect now, at all. Naked, I came to stand in front of him.

He straightened and ran the back of his hand down along my body, from my collarbone to my belly. He played with my hair for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

“Shall I turn you over my knee and spank you?”

My eyes widened in alarm, but then he shook his head. “No, I have a better idea.”

He settled both his shoulders against the wall, and set his hands on my shoulders. “On your knees.”

I sank down, and looked up at him.

“Do you remember?” He murmured. “How I unlaced your clothes that night?”

I nodded.

“Do it.” Then he gave me that slow, wicked smile. “Don't use your hands until I say.”

I felt hot and cold at the same time, as I leaned forward a little. Getting the piece of leather between my teeth wasn't all that difficult, but it took me a few tries to tug at it the right way so that the tie loosened. He stroked my hair as I worked, all my concentration on the task.

Finally, I tugged one final time, and the leather slid out of the last grommet. I looked up at him, and he took the leather thong out of my mouth and set it aside. “Now, you may use your hands.”

As I lifted my hands he guided them to the waistband of his trousers. “Take them off,” he commanded softly.

I hooked my thumbs under the leather and tugged, sliding the pants off his hips. As soon as his cock sprang free, I couldn't take my eyes off it. I pulled his pants down his legs without looking at what I was doing.

I didn't wait for him to give me instructions this time. I curled my fingers around his cock and stroked it, slowly, watching in fascination as the smooth skin stretched and moved under my fingers.

He buried the fingers of his right hand in my hair, and pulled my head toward him.

I took him into my mouth, eyes half shut as I concentrated. His length wasn't the challenge, I discovered – it was his thickness. He was patient with me, moving slowly, whispering encouragement as I adjusted and figured out how to handle him.

Once I had settled into a rhythm, he began to rock his hips against me, still with his fingers tangled in my hair. He leaned his head against the wall, watching me.

I experimented, flicking my tongue against the glans as he pulled back, and sucking gently. He groaned, his cock quivering in my mouth, and his fingers tightened in my hair.

For a few more minutes, I sucked his cock; when he at last tugged on my shoulders, easing me away, I let go only reluctantly.

He stepped out of his pants, and went to the bed. He patted the mattress. “I want you on your hands and knees, now.”

I licked my lips, and climbed onto the bed.

He knelt on the bed behind me, and I felt his hands caressing me, guiding me. I groaned as I felt him enter me.

He held my hips and eased me back. “Follow the motion I'm showing you,” he murmured. “Rock back against me, my dear. Yes, like that.”

I panted for breath as he stroked against me. The pleasure built and built within me, as I moaned and sighed. All the while, Haurchefant whispered to me, and his clever, wonderful fingers wandered over my quaking flesh.

At last, I began to tremble and gasp, and all at once my orgasm overwhelmed me. I dropped my head, crying out.

Haurchefant grabbed my hips and thrust into me. All gentleness between us vanished as he held me hard, and pounded against me. The ferocity of his strokes drove me onward, prolonging my climax. I shrieked as he slammed into me again and again, until suddenly he let out a deep groan and exploded inside of me.

We collapsed together on the bed, both of us completely out of breath.

Haurchefant stroked my hair away from my face. “Rest.”

“You won't,” I murmured, too tired to really complain.

“Oh, this time, I most certainly will, my dear.” He kissed my temple. “This time, I will.”

I mumbled, and snuggled into him.

He drew the covers over us, and I let exhaustion plunge me into sleep.


	7. Questions

I stepped into the mess hall some time after noon. Coming in late as I was, I hoped the place would be mostly empty. But as soon as I got inside, someone called out to me.

“Ah, she stirs at last. Did you finally get enough rest, Berylla?”

I kept what I hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression on my face as I turned toward Alphinaud. I came over to the table where he sat, and nodded. “And you?”

“Only just now feeling human again, I admit.” He smiled a little. “Ser Aymeric returned to Whitebrim this morning.”

I twitched, remembering Aymeric's shirt, still in Haurchefant's room. “I suppose we need to get back as well, don't we?”

“We can leave at our leisure,” he said, waving his hand for me to sit down. “I'll get you an ale, all right?” He moved off even as he uttered the words.

“Thank you,” I called after him. Then I grabbed some of the hard sausages and firm cheese, all sliced up, and one of the little loaves of bread, not quite as long as my forearm. I tore the bread and stacked the meat and cheese inside of it. I'd finished off my rough sandwich by the time Alphinaud came back to the table.

He set a mug and a bowl down in front of me. “The cook sent some of the soup, too.”

“That was awfully nice of him.”

“Once he knew it was you, he seemed to think you needed the extra.”

“I do.” I winked at my friend. “After all, being this amazing requires a lot of calories.”

Alphinaud's laugh was a welcome sound, and I grinned.

Then I devoured the soup and two more sandwiches. I was starving, but keeping my mouth full of food also meant I could let Alphinaud ramble about whatever he liked. He wouldn't ask me questions; and I didn't really have to listen.

I tried not to think about Haurchefant. If I didn't think about him, I wouldn't be tempted to go straight back to his bed and stay there for the rest of the day...

“Are you finished eating?”

I shook myself and looked over at Alphinaud. “Yeah, I'm done. Time to get on the road.”

“We still have the Durendaire courier animals,” he said. “So all we have to do is collect our things and let the stable boys know.”

“I'm pretty sure I never unpacked,” I said. “I'll meet you in the courtyard.”

He nodded, and we both got up and headed out.

I couldn't resist stopping by Haurchefant's room on the way to my own, though.

I tapped twice, and then slipped inside the room. Haurchefant looked up and smiled at me. He was mending his padded-leather gambeson as he sat at his little table. “Welcome back.”

“I'm not here for long,” I told him, “unfortunately. We have to go back out to Whitebrim.”

“I thought as much. That Alphinaud isn't one to take a rest while the hunt is up.”

I toyed with the end of my ponytail. “I wish I could get away with staying. If he hadn't seen me in the mess hall...”

Haurchefant set aside the gambeson and got up. He slid his arms around me and tucked my head against his shoulder. “While I'm very flattered that you'd rather be with me than out in the snow,” he said, his voice trembling with laughter, “Duty comes first, my dear.”

“I know. But duty isn't...” I rubbed my cheek against his shirt. “It isn't any _fun_.”

He chuckled. “Would it truly be duty if it were?”

I couldn't help but giggle.

“I want to come back tonight.” I plucked at a loose thread. “If I can...will you be...?”

“What did I tell you earlier? All you have to do is ask.”

I sighed deeply as I let him go. “Well...the sooner I go, the sooner I might get to come back, then.”

He stroked my cheek. “Be safe, and good hunting, my dear.”

I kissed his fingers, and then forced myself to leave.

Even with that little detour, I was still in the courtyard a good ten minutes ahead of Alphinaud. The birds were ready, and I held the reins of both, patiently, as the young Elezen hurried across the stones. The wind was picking up, and the sky had grown dark with clouds.

“There's word that a storm is coming in,” he told me as he took one set of reins from me. “They say it looks like it may snow before nightfall.”

“Well, let's not waste any more time, then.”

We mounted up and spurred our birds out the western gate.

At Whitebrim, we parted ways – Alphinaud's destination was not the keep, but the canyon to the south, a place called Snowcloak. I'd been there once already, but I wanted to check in with Lord Drillemont in case there had been any sort of news from his men.

The grizzled old lord greeted me as I came up the steps onto the third floor of his tower. “Ah, Berylla, good, just the person I needed.”

“Oh? Is there news?”

“We've got a suspect – a knight, and I'm fairly certain he's passing information to the heretics. I want you to follow him, please. Not to detain him, but to track his movements and tell us just where he is meeting his contact.”

“Can do.” He told me the name of my quarry and where to find him within the keep, and I gave him a small bow and headed out.

The chase was almost easy. At first all I had to do, was to stand about in the courtyard and wait for the watch to change. The knight left the keep, as Drillemont had predicted – just as the storm rolled in. A knight just off a long watch should have been eager to get some hot food in his belly and then to get some rest, and the moment I had seen him turning his steps for the south gate and the road, I had begun to shadow him in earnest. If I hadn't been on his tail from the start, the flurrying snow would have hidden his traces neatly. I gave him marks for cleverness there. But the snow did a fine job of hiding my presence from him as well, and he strode across the hills without once glancing back.

I half expected him to head for Snowcloak, but instead he veered east, and then south, into the narrow crevice of Daniffen's Pass. The hiss of the snow was blocked by the overhanging rocks, and I had to plaster myself against a boulder and freeze in place so he wouldn't hear me.

The echo of the tunnel-like cavern made it easy at first to overhear every word the knight said – and he was indeed meeting someone!

“Keep your voice down,” the second person snapped, irritated. “This damn echo...”

_Well, shit. I guess the heretic is the smart one. Too bad they both couldn't have been stupid and overconfident._

I strained my ears, but could barely make anything out after that. Still, I hadn't wasted my time. When I heard footsteps beginning to move away, I eased myself back, but I needn't have worried – the next sound to reach my ears was water splashing. For a moment I wondered why he was splashing in icy cold water in the middle of a snowstorm, but then I shook my head. His noise gave me the chance to move away, and hurry back to the keep.

I wasn't built for running, but that didn't mean I couldn't move my ass when there was need.

I got back to the tower and took just enough time to slow my breathing to an acceptable level before heading up the stairs to report.

“So I was right.” Drillemont slapped his gloves against his leg, and growled under his breath. “I wish we'd caught the bastard sooner.” He reached over and snagged a slip of paper, and showed it to me.

I saw columns of names and small numbers, and glanced at the commander, raising my eyebrows in question. “This is the watch schedule for Snowcloak,” he explained. “It was found among the traitor's possessions.”

I bit my lip. “That's bad, isn't it?”

“Very. He was stationed among the watch there a week ago.” Drillemont waited, but I just looked at him blankly, not sure exactly where he was tending. He rolled his eyes a little and told me, “The schedule hasn't been changed. Oh, it will be changed _now_ , but don't you see? That means the heretics know exactly when to strike. And Ser Aymeric is out there right now!”

My eyes widened. “So is Alphinaud!” I started to turn around, but Drillemont stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

“You must inform Ser Aymeric first,” he demanded. “And don't make it obvious what you're telling him – you may tip off the heretics. They have to have watchers on the canyon somehow.”

“Assuming they aren't already under attack,” I answered testily, “I'll be discreet.”

“Go then. I'll muster my men and join you as soon as possible.”

I didn't even nod, just turned and ran down the stairs and out of the tower.

I fetched Joy myself, vaulting into her saddle. “We gotta go, girl!”

She responded to the urgency in my voice, and a passing knight had to throw himself out of our path as she charged forward at top speed.

As glad as I had been of the flurrying snow not even half an hour before, now I cursed it. Visibility was rotten. The only reason I could let Joy run full tilt was because the road to Snowcloak had become smooth from all the traveling back and forth, packing down the snow to a hard, stable surface.

We careened into the canyon, and a Temple Knight nearly skewered us on his lance as we surprised him. “Who goes?!”

“It's _me_ , damn it!” I yanked Joy to a stop, and she shrieked in indignation at the knight, her heavy beak clashing together as she snapped in his direction.

“Oh! Scion! My apologies...”

“Yeah, yeah, where's Aymeric? I have a message to give him.”

The knight stiffened at my sharp tone, but grounded his lance and pointed.

I urged Joy forward, and she crab-stepped a little, snapping once more at the knight before obeying me.

The wind howled down the canyon of ice. The sound made me shiver more than the cold did. Mainly because it sounded too much like people suffering the greatest heart break imaginable.

I dismounted a few feet away from Aymeric, and glanced around.

“Mistress Berylla,” he greeted me, politely.

“Where the hell is Alphinaud?” I asked, frowning.

“He and his Braves decided to make a brief scouting foray,” Aymeric answered.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. Quickly, in a low voice, I relayed my message.

No sooner had I finished speaking than I tensed, hearing a sound behind and above our position. Movement on the ice? Another knight appeared, crunching through the snow. But, I swore I could hear stealthier steps.

“Report,” Aymeric said to the knight, who saluted, a touch of weariness in his movements.

The report was nothing new. A whole lot of “we didn't find a damn thing,” just as all the other reports yesterday had been. “Take yourself to the fire,” Aymeric ordered. “Two mugs of tea before you go back on patrol.”

“Aye, Lord Commander.”

As the man walked off, Aymeric spoke to me, very quietly. “I am reasonably certain there are at least two sentries on the walls above us. But I think they're only...a distraction, if you will.”

I nodded briefly, and flicked my eyes upwards as I heard another soft scuffle up there. He nodded back, the barest motion of his head.

“So I suppose we must wait for the Braves to return,” I ventured, in a louder voice.

“I have one more scout due to come in soon as well,” Aymeric nodded.

 _Waiting is the worst part of every mission._ I sighed a little.

Aymeric's blue cloak swirled in a stray eddy of wind, and he turned toward me slightly, his blue eyes assessing me. I didn't respond to the stare; he wasn't being particularly aggressive or rude after all, merely...curious. He _had_ mentioned that he'd heard stories about me. I wondered, idly, which ones.

“Haurchefant has told me quite a bit about you,” the dark haired Elezen said after a moment. “His praises were many, in fact.”

There was something in his tone that hinted that Haurchefant had not been telling the sort of stories I'd been just thinking about. Especially since I knew that the two of them were...involved.

A memory of that dark blue silk shirt flashed across my mind's eye.

I hoped that any blush rising to my cheeks looked like wind burn. “I can't imagine,” I said, politely, “what sort of unlikely stories he has embellished for you, my lord.”

Aymeric's smile had a wolfish edge to it. “Some of his comments are wholly accurate, I assure you.”

“Oh?” I wrinkled my nose a little in amusement, but a little worm of uncertainty wriggled in my guts. _The fuck have you been saying about me, Haurchefant_?

“He has quite a good eye,” Aymeric added, in an offhanded tone.

I paused. _Surely Haurchefant hasn't been praising my_ _ **looks**_ _to this man?_ I glanced at Aymeric and caught a flash of...surely not. No. There was no way the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights of Ishgard was actually ogling me. _Ridiculous, Berylla. Lock down your fucking hormones. Besides, if he's with Haurchefant...I don't think he likes women that way._

I shifted my weight a little, and shrugged. “He's been the very soul of kindness and generosity,” I said, trying to steer this conversation away from potential flirting – unlikely as it was. “As for my...deeds of bravery,” my mouth twisted at the bitter taste of _those_ words, “I merely did what had to be done to help.”

“You didn't have to help him, or the people of Whitebrim,” Aymeric observed mildly. “After all, you owed them nothing, and stood to gain very little.”

“Unlike this situation?” I raised my eyebrows at him, and he gave a little nod, acknowledging that my help right now wasn't the same.

I frowned down at the snow. “I don't mind accepting recompense for my work. I have to eat, after all. The coin is not why I take on such tasks, and gods, not the damned notoriety either. At the start...it was to survive, but not anymore.”

He tilted his head, eyes interested, inviting me to elaborate.

“I've already earned enough money to retire, set myself up comfortably in fact,” I pointed out. “I'm not hurting for cash. And I could have my pick of a dozen, maybe two dozen, steady employment situations, any of which would involve enough pay to _keep_ me comfortable and still pad that retirement fund. Any of them would also involve a lot less personal risk to my hide.” I snorted softly. “There are even those who'd hire me to teach.”

_I'm not about to get into my past lives, not here and not with this man._

My smile dropped as I met his eyes squarely. “You said before that you're well versed in the differences between words, deeds, and beliefs. My deeds should tell you that I'm not the ordinary sort of adventurer. What else do they tell you, Ser Aymeric, that Haurchefant did not?”

Aymeric's grin took me off guard, and his words even more so. “Everything he told me has been thoroughly borne out, my lady.”

Before I could manage to formulate any reply to that, another knight approached, and gave his report – almost exactly like the last knight's report. Ser Aymeric nodded, and the knight saluted and strode away. I spared a moment to admire the practice it had to take, for any of these knights to walk around on all this ice and snow in metal boots as if they were merely strolling on bare dirt.

Aymeric turned to look at me again. “Since we still have something of a wait ahead of us, might you be willing to indulge my curiosity?”

“Provided I have an answer.”

“Master Leveilleur seems a most...enthusiastic partner.”

I blinked, trying to parse that. “He does tackle every task with energy,” I agreed cautiously. No, I _wasn't_ imagining it, there was a gleam in Aymeric's eye. What was he after?

“Have you worked with him long? Haurchefant told me that his company – these Crystal Braves of his – are a quite new group.”

“I've fought by his side,” I nodded, “several times. The Braves are indeed new, but he seems to be doing well with them thus far.” I smiled a little. “He has a twin sister, and I've worked more closely with her in the past. She has a much different...focus. A vastly different approach to attaining her goals, than her brother. I helped her with a rather complicated...project, some months ago.” The stench of machine oil and ozone haunted my memory for a moment; the reflection of unearthly lights on tear streaked cheeks. _Gods, I wish that vision hadn't been a true one_. My heart still ached.

I shook my head a little and glanced at him. “Alphinaud joined us at the end of that. It was...quite an experience. Sorry if I seem vague, but, the details are best kept private.”

“And was her goal reached? Her problem resolved?”

“Oh yes.” I looked out into the blowing snow, towards the canyon entrance, blinking away the sting of tears. “It cost them both far more than they were prepared to pay, but they didn't hesitate for a second to do what had to be done.”

I looked back at Aymeric, and my mouth tightened a little. “Alphinaud is a staunch and solid ally. You're well able to rely on him.”

“Reliability was never my concern,” Aymeric raised one eyebrow. “Neither of you would be here if I'd had a single doubt on that score.”

I gazed at him for a moment, then shrugged. _Fuck it_. “Ser Aymeric, I'm not very good at diplomatic double-speak, I'm afraid. If you're looking for a specific answer, you'll have to ask a direct question.”

His eyes gleamed a little as he crossed his arms, and one corner of his mouth lifted. “Very well then, what I am asking you is this. Precisely what is the extent of your relationship with Master Leveilleur? What is he to you?”

“My very good, rather young friend,” I answered promptly, though my brow wrinkled in confusion. “He's almost like a brother to me, I care about him a great deal, and I trust him completely.”

“Ah.” Aymeric's smile was cat like now. “Good.”

_What the hell?_

I was about to ask a direct question of my own – such as “Why do you want to know?”

Before I could open my mouth, I heard Alphinaud's voice. I turned to see him at the head of a small phalanx of blue-clad Crystal Braves, walking towards us.

He spoke to Aymeric and me only briefly, before wandering over to a Brave who seemed to be attempting to examine the ice-wall with some esoteric instrument or other. I glanced at Aymeric, concerned – he hadn't warned Alphinaud about the probably-imminent attack.


	8. Shards of Ice

_I need to tell Alphinaud to look out; those damn heretics might attack any moment._ I took a single step towards my friend.

Ice cracked as arrows struck the walls, fired down the canyon from above. As if materializing out of the snow and ice, half a dozen heretics stood between us and the canyon mouth.

“Get the girl!” one shouted, and three of them converged on Alphinaud.

“Oh no you fucking _don't_ ,” I growled, and flung myself at them.

My axe whistled through the air and one of the heretics immediately crumpled, blood splattering the ice.

Alphinaud fumbled for his arcanist's tome, surprise and cold making his motions awkward. I planted my feet and hefted my axe, daring the remaining heretics to try me.

They traded glances with each other. One had a short spear, the other an axe – narrower than mine but with a vicious looking hook added onto it.

The spear-man came in low, going for my knees, while the man with the axe swiped for my head. I danced to the side, then stepped inside the spear-man's reach and jabbed him in the solar plexus with my haft. He doubled over, weapon clattering across the ice, and staggered back a few steps.

His mate pressed the attack, and managed to tag me with that nasty hook, tearing into my side. I snarled and whirled on him, the blade of my axe biting into the haft of his. With a startled curse he yanked free and pulled back a step.

Beyond him, I could see Aymeric, wielding that huge sword of his as if it weighed no more than a walking-stick, laying into another attacker. His men scrambled up the canyon walls, shouting. I saw Joy grab a man in her beak and slam him into the canyon wall. Blood slicked the ice as he slid to the ground.

Alphinaud's voice rose, chanting a spell, and the heretic's face twisted in pain and nausea. I rushed him, slamming my shoulder into his chest and driving him back. He spun away, and tried to chop at my ankles. I leaped up and back, and brought my axe down on his head with a two handed strike that crushed his helmet and his skull.

Then the pain in my right side brought me to one knee, and I leaned on my axe and just focused on breathing.

“Berylla!” Alphinaud rushed over to me, and knelt beside me. “Hold still.”

I gave him a grateful look as he muttered a healing incantation and concentrated, his hand held a few inches away from my wound. The pain was replaced with a tingling warmth and a brief wave of dizziness.

Around us, the chaos was already tapering off. I glanced up as a high voice called out to us. “Alphinaud! Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” he muttered, and I couldn't help but laugh, almost silently, still catching my breath.

Yda pounded up to us, her red boots like a shout of defiance against the white ice. “Good thing we were on our way here anyway,” she commented, in her usual feather-headed way. “Though I don't suppose you needed much help.” She cast a glance at the Temple Knights, and her mouth pursed in a soundless whistle as she noticed Aymeric.

I stood up, grunting a little at a last twinge of pain. “The assist was appreciated, trust me.”

“Well, good.” Yda was still staring. _Not that I blame her. He really is quite arresting_. “Who is that?” she asked.

“Ser Aymeric, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights,” Alphinaud's answer held a touch of reproof.

“Oh, a fancy knight, is he?”

I shook my head, helpless to resist a chuckle at her deliberately obtuse manner. Alphinaud rolled his eyes and stalked off to talk to his Braves, and Yda gave me a pleased smirk. She was much worse than me about teasing the young Elezen, and despite the seriousness of our situation, I somehow felt better just for her being here.

Aymeric turned then, and beckoned to me. “Oho,” Yda murmured.

“Hush, you,” I muttered back. “I'm pretty sure he's playing for the other side.”

“What a shame!”

I shook my head and walked over to Aymeric. A knight got Alphinaud's attention, and he turned, waving one hand to say “Be there in a moment.”

Aymeric nodded to me and Yda, and waited for Alphinaud. Trotting up from a different direction, Papalymo the mage joined us at the same time.

“My knights have good news,” Aymeric informed us. “The tunnels that the heretics have been using are now exposed, and I am reasonably certain we also know which one of those tunnels is the most likely to lead us directly into Iceheart's main camp.”

“My Braves will go,” Alphinaud began, but when Papalymo shook his head, the young man paused.

“The tunnels are barely wide enough for two men abreast,” the diminutive sorcerer pointed out, crossing his arms. “The heretics don't even need to be particularly proficient warriors to hold off two men at a time, and even if you advance, there are side passages all along every tunnel I've surveyed so far. You would be foolish to proceed with anything less than a sizable force, but you also won't be sneaking up on anyone's lair with more than, say, four people.”

Alphinaud's eyes flickered with thought for a moment, and he cursed. “You're right. But we can't just let them get away, either!”

“I'll go.”

All of them looked at me, and I surveyed their expressions with mild amusement. Yda had a little smile playing around her mouth – she was the least surprised, and after all this was hardly the first time I'd volunteered to take on a mission like this. Papalymo was, as usual, harder to read, but I caught his tiny nod of agreement. I could see in the crease of his brow and the tightened lips that Alphinaud didn't like my solution. Aymeric's eyebrows rose, but his eyes met mine and I saw nothing there but acceptance.

“It's dangerous,” Alphinaud began, but I cut him off.

“It's the best solution we have. Survey the tunnels, still. Whether I make it back or not, the information will be vital.” I looked him in the eyes. “You of all people know I don't hunt glory, Alphinaud.”

He looked away, and one hand curled into a fist. “Yes. I know.”

“So then. I'll scrounge up a crew, and go clean out this rat's nest.”

I gave them no further chance to argue with me. I went to Joy – still very pleased with herself and stamping her feet, looking for more enemies to beat up. After calming her a little, I swung up into the saddle and rode out.

It took me less than an hour to round up a few adventurers who happened to be in the area; with even Lord Drillemont brought round on the subject of hiring sell-swords, there was plenty of work to be had for all sorts in the Highlands now. I returned to the canyon with three of them in tow, and two conjurers rode not far behind us, coming to give a hand with the survey and any healing that might be needed.

Alphinaud and Aymeric stood together at the back of the canyon, where a sketchy camp had been made. Alphinaud's crossed arms and stony expression told me he was still in a rather sulky mood. So I simply nodded to him, and reported to them both. Aymeric glanced at Alphinaud, but he had turned his back to us.

“It is a dangerous mission,” the Lord Commander said to me. “But, I can think of no one better qualified for the task. I bid you good fortune.”

“Thank you, Ser Aymeric,” I nodded politely. Then I beckoned to the others waiting behind me, and made my way to the tunnel mouth.

It was deep night when we returned, our steps dragging a bit. But the moment we emerged, the knights and the Braves still stationed in the canyon practically swarmed us, and in no time we were settled with warming mugs on some upturned crates close to the fire, our hurts tingling from healing magic. The knights who weren't on duty even lent us their cloaks.

“You'll have to get back to Whitebrim for food and real rest,” the petite conjurer told me, as she patted my shoulder. “Just take your time.”

“Oh, I will. Thanks.” I smiled at her, and drank gratefully of the hot tea. _If I have to keep chasing after people in this climate, my bones are going to turn into ice._

The other three finished off their mugs and hurried away, more than ready to call it a night. I stayed a little longer, just resting before trying to make that ride.

“Berylla.”

I looked over, to see Alphinaud settling himself on a crate beside me. His face was pensive as he stared into the fire.

“Hi. Feeling a little better?”

“I...I should apologize.”

“No, you don't need to apologize for worrying about me.” I smiled at him. “But after everything you and I have been through, all the things you've personally seen me take on and defeat...it's a little silly to be quite _that_ worried about me, perhaps.”

“I should have more faith in you, yes.”

“Hey,” I nudged him, “I'm not mad at you. Don't be a goose. I appreciate that someone worries for me a little, you know.”

He gave me an unhappy look. “Ser Aymeric gave me quite a lecture about trusting my comrades...” He sighed, and picked at a thread on his trousers. “I didn't think of it as not trusting you, you know.”

“I know. I care about you too.”

His eyes flew to mine, and then he smiled, weakly. “You are far more understanding than Alisaie would be.”

“I'm maybe a little older than your sister,” I laughed. “I've learned the value in a nagging brother.”

His lips parted, as he understood what I meant. Then he looked down, quickly, and I pretended not to see the flush across his neck.

“I'm heading back to Dragonhead tonight,” he said after a few moments. “If you wish, you could join me.”

“The beds are certainly more comfortable there,” I nodded. “I'll be ready to leave soon.”

“I'll wait for you.” He stood up. He set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently before moving out of the firelight.

I finished my tea, and got up, handing the borrowed cloak back to the knight who'd offered it with a nod of thanks.

As I turned, I paused, seeing Aymeric standing not two feet away.

He nodded to me, and smiled a little. “Though I did not doubt that you would return,” he said to me in a low voice, “I am nonetheless relieved to see my judgment validated.”

Beneath his polite, formal words, I heard an undertone. He really was glad to see me, I realized. _So for all your lecturing of my friend, you were worried too, eh, Lord Commander?_

_First Haurchefant and now Aymeric? I don't know why these men are so interested in me. Worse, I don't know what do about it_.

I realized I'd been silent too long, and tried to smile, feeling awkward yet again.

“Rest well,” Aymeric said, and I bowed a little, then turned away and headed to find Alphinaud.

As we rode along the snowy road, I thought hard about my relationships – such as they were.

Too many times, men – and women! - had flung themselves at me, trying to use their bodies to manipulate me. In the presence of such opportunists, I simply remained still and silent, unresponsive, a statue. I _literally_ didn't need to respond; their overtures withered against the stoic face of The Hero.

Haurchefant's affections hadn't been like that. He wasn't chasing after me. He wasn't sleeping with me to further some cause. I didn't need to worry that he'd be heart broken when I finally had to leave. His affection was like a gift: freely given, something I hadn't been looking for and hadn't known that I needed. _Haurchefant is one hell of a friend._

Haurchefant also had a _lot_ of other friends. I still didn't know what to make of Aymeric and his odd questions from earlier. I knew he had a relationship with Haurchefant – presumably one similar to my own. So why should he flirt with me? Was he even actually flirting? What stories had Haurchefant been telling him?

A thought occurred to me that made my cheeks flame. _Was Haurchefant comparing my performance to Aymeric's, last time we...? Gods, I hope not._

I turned my face into the wind and tried not to think about _that_.


	9. Dear Friends

When we arrived, a bit after midnight, the knight in charge of quarters was rather apologetic. “We've only one room left,” he told us. “It's meant for four, usually – there are bunks, you see...”

“That's fine. So long as it's warm, I don't care about sharing space with my shield-brother.” Alphinaud nodded agreement.

“Oh,” the knight looked relieved.

Alphinaud took the left hand bunk, practically collapsing onto it. “Tomorrow,” he told me, as he kicked his boots off and burrowed into the blankets, “We'll go back to the Rising Stones. Minfilia sent me a message while you were busy. Something about an expert she had contacted finally arriving.”

I lay on the bunk on the other side of the tiny room, and nodded. “Well, we certainly can't do much more here.” I stretched a little, and tucked my hands behind my head.

Tired as I was, I wasn't ready to sleep just yet. But I also didn't want Alphinaud's curiosity aroused. The last thing I needed was him getting wind of me and Haurchefant...

_Especially if this is going to be my last night in Coerthas for a while. I'm not leaving without having a talk with that man._

So I lay there, and waited for Alphinaud to stop tossing and turning. My friend was far too exhausted to fight sleep for long, and soon enough I was able to sit up, put my boots back on, and leave.

Dragonhead's kitchen had a small corner that stayed basically “active” all day and all night; it was there that they kept that spicy tea of theirs going. I stopped by and got two mugs of the drink, and then took them to the main hall.

As I had hoped, Haurchefant was still awake, seated at that massive desk, writing. _Probably another report. If I didn't know better, I'd think he really never slept._

He glanced up at my step and blinked in surprise. He made as if to stand and greet me.

“Sit,” I told him gruffly, and handed over one of the mugs. “I just came to talk a minute.”

He sat back, his eyes on me as he took the mug and drank. “There is something on your mind?”

I ran my thumb along the rim of my mug. Downed it all in one swallow. “What the bloody blue blazes have you been _telling_ Ser Aymeric, and why?”

I expected some sort of denial, embarrassment, defensiveness. Instead, Haurchefant laughed, a free and easy laugh, as if he'd won a bet.

“So you _did_ have a conversation with him. I'd wondered when he might get around to talking to you.”

I frowned a little. “It was...odd.”

“How, odd?” He drank his tea.

My cheeks warmed as I remembered. I looked into my empty mug. “There's no way he was flirting with me,” I muttered. “Utterly preposterous.”

I hadn't meant Haurchefant to hear the last part of that, but his chair scraped the floor. I looked up to see him set his own mug down with a thump, and come around the table. He took my mug and set it down too, with more force than strictly necessary, and then knelt, grabbing my hands. His lips were pressed tightly together.

“There's nothing preposterous about finding you attractive.”

He stared into my eyes and I couldn't look away.

“I spoke with Aymeric as I frequently do. I did discuss you with him,” he said. He rubbed his thumbs across my wrists. “I mentioned all the things I've noticed about you. Your courage, your fighting skills...your hair. Your kindness. The curve of your lips.”

“What do my _looks_ matter?” I demanded, exasperated.

His silver eyes crinkled with barely suppressed laughter. “Aymeric has many of the same tastes I do.”

When I realized just what he meant, the blush hit my skin so fast it hurt. Abruptly my mind tried to conjure up images, of me being with _both_ of them. I shook my head to clear it, feeling dizzy even at the prospect.

Haurchefant leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Still feeling jealous, my dear?”

“I don't know what I'm feeling,” I admitted, in a low voice.

He got up, and tugged me to my feet. “Come with me.”

He led me not to his bedroom this time, but into the intercessory. As he locked the door and dropped the bar into place, I wrapped my arms around myself, uncertainly. I'd been in here before – more than once, now, whenever Ser Aymeric had wanted to discuss anything with Alphinaud and me. But I hadn't paid much attention to the room itself; only now did I see how there was a screened-off section. Haurchefant took my elbow and led me past the partition.

There were three wide, padded chairs in the small alcove hidden by the screens, and a sturdy table. I turned to Haurchefant, wondering what he had in mind now.

He took off his gambeson and tossed it on the table. I felt my heart rate jump and swallowed. _He means to do this_ _ **here**_ _?_

He came close to me, and swiped his silver hair out of his eyes before he took my chin in his fingers and kissed me.

“Put you in front of a dragon and you have no hesitation, no doubts,” he said tenderly, “but you just can't deal with being loved, can you?”

I put my arms around his waist. “I think,” I answered, slowly, “that some of it is not knowing who I can trust in that way.”

He tugged at my vest, and I took it off, throwing it at one of the chairs. I yanked my shirt over my head, unwilling to screw around with ties, not this time. He smiled as he pulled me in for another kiss, and his hands were hot against my skin as he stroked my shoulders and back.

“And do you trust me?”

“Yes...I just don't know what I want from you.”

He nuzzled my neck, making me gasp a little. “You and I are friends,” he told me, his breath warm against my ear. “Simply enjoying each other. Nothing more complicated than that.”

“Are you simply friends with Aymeric, too?”

His chuckle made me shiver all over. “Very much so.”

“I'm sorry for acting like a fool. For being so...inept.”

“Stop worrying,” he sighed. He gathered me to him, tucking my head against his shoulder. “We talked about this already, or have you forgotten so soon?”

“Sorry...”

“Berylla.” His voice tightened, and his arms around me did the same. “Stop. Stop apologizing. Stop worrying. Relax. Just don't think.”

“I'm s-” I swallowed the words, and rubbed my hands up and down his back. “I don't know...how to _not_ think.”

He pressed his lips against my temple, and then his nipped my earlobe. I yipped in surprise, half laughing. “Hey!”

He let me pull away, his eyes crinkling as he laughed too. Then he unfastened my belt and pulled it off – and he took my shoulder in his free hand and turned me so that my back was facing him.

“What..?” I tried to crane my neck to look at him, confused.

Then he was grasping my arms, guiding them, until he had my arms behind my back. “What are you _doing_?” My voice was breathy, and a little shrill with alarm.

“I'm going to distract you. Tie you up a little. Give you something else to think about.” His breath was hot against the back of my neck as I felt the leather wrapping around my wrists. “Hold,” he ordered, and I felt the belt buckle slip into my left hand. _He's tying me up with my own belt?!_

“Haurchefant, why...!”

“Hold on to it,” he growled. “And hush. Or shall I gag you?”

“What the _hell_...” But I grasped the belt buckle and closed my mouth. He grunted a little, satisfied. He tightened the belt, somehow, until it was firm, but not hurting. I flexed, experimentally. I could break free if I really wanted to do so...and mystified as I was, I didn't want to escape. Yet.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” His hands slid around me, cupping my breasts. I could feel his chest, warm against my back. “But if you start worrying, grab the belt buckle. It will give you something to focus on.”

“But...”

“I said hush, my dear.” He spoke right into my ear, his breath tickling. “Talking makes you think. I don't want you to think. I want you to _feel_.”

As I stood in the circle of his arms, with his thumbs playing with my nipples and my own belt tying my hands, he kissed my neck, licked and nuzzled me. I shivered with pleasure when he took my earlobe again, sucking on it this time. I closed my eyes, and grasped the belt buckle, feeling the tongue of it poke into my palm. _Don't think_.

He moved a little, kneading and stroking my breasts with delicate touches. He kissed, and licked, and nibbled, as I gasped and tried not to wriggle too much. He unfastened my pants, but didn't remove them. And then he led me a few steps forward, toward the table.

“Bend.”

He used his hands on the belt tying me, to guide me down. Then, standing behind me, he reached to adjust the gambeson so that the thick, padded sleeve would be folded under my cheek. Obeying his soft commands, I spread my feet apart just a little. Feeling him against me stoked the fire in me, and I couldn't stop myself from rocking my hips against him.

He ran his hand down my back, and then slipped his fingers under the waist band of my pants. With a tug he exposed my hips and the upper curves of my buttocks. He stroked me as I groaned a little, and laughed deep in his throat.

When he stepped back, I made an inarticulate noise of protest, and tried to look back at him. But it was no good. I felt his hands touch my ankle. “Be still.”

I started to shift my weight.

“No, Berylla. Be still. I'll tell you when to move.”

 _Don't think_. The belt buckle pressed into my palm again as I squeezed. _Why am I letting him do this? Why do I_ _ **like**_ _it?_ But I couldn't deny that I was even more turned on now than I had been this morning.

He took off my boots, then shucked my pants off, letting me move only a tiny amount. I shivered as my now exposed skin prickled at the cool air. _What is he doing now?_

I felt him lift my left foot, bending my knee a little.

Then I shrieked and giggled, helplessly, as he stroked the sole of my foot. I felt unbalanced, like I'd fall if I wriggled too hard. “No! Haha...no! Ack!”

He laughed again, and then rubbed his thumb into my big toe. I ground my teeth against more giggles, barely containing myself. But when I felt the warm wet of his mouth take my toe, I gasped.

He sucked on the toe. I groaned, feeling my whole body reacting to the stimulation. I could feel the wetness between my thighs. I shook as if I was in an earthquake. _What the hell_ _ **is**_ _this?_

He let go, and trailed his fingers and his kisses along my foot, to my ankle, then up my leg to the knee. After placing a gentle, tingling kiss behind my knee, he attacked my other foot. I writhed, giggled, gasped, shook – completely helpless under his tender assault.

Having kissed my other knee, he smoothed his hands upward along my thighs. All my giggles subsided, and my hips rocked again, mutely pleading.

“Open,” he commanded me, gently pushing my thighs apart.

I panted a little as I obeyed, awkwardly. Combat was something I knew the moves for; this was a completely different sort of dance. But I was electrified with anticipation, shaking in every muscle.

His fingers stroked my secret places and I moaned loudly, unable to be embarrassed or nervous any more. As I felt his breath across the fine hairs there, I let out a breathy little shriek of pure need.

And when I felt his tongue, I bit the gambeson sleeve, crying out into the thick quilted fabric. All reason left me; I was made of nothing but the feelings Haurchefant was creating.

His mouth worked my flesh, licking, tasting, stroking. He teased me with this teeth, almost nipping but not quite, making me jump and yelp. He found the little nubbin of my clitoris and sucked on it, and I bucked against the table. I could feel the juices dripping along my thighs, and I came hard and fast, tears of release stinging my eyes.

No sooner had I caught my breath, than I could feel him standing up behind me, his hands kneading my buttocks. I shook all over, but something in me made me rock back against him, demanding more. His pants were open, the metal grommets like chilly dots against my fever hot skin.

He set himself against me gently, and I ground against him, whimpering and begging with little pants and gasps. His groan made me smile.

I was soaking wet and he slipped inside me easily. I hissed and bit the gambeson sleeve again. He filled me deliciously. He grabbed the belt wrapped around my wrists and hauled on it, making me arch my back and raise my head a little. Both of us panted for breath in harsh gasps as he began to thrust.

It didn't take long before my second orgasm washed over me like an overwhelming ambush. Haurchefant held me in place, or I would surely have fallen off the table.

I wept against his coat, spent. I felt as if all the worry, stress, and frustration of the last week had all flowed out of me. Haurchefant untied me, and I flexed my arms, slowly.

He tugged at me a little, and I managed to turn over and sit up. He gathered me to him, cradling me in his arms as I sat on the edge of the table.

His hair was in his eyes again as he wiped away my tears. “Better?” he murmured.

I nodded, too overwrought to speak. But I reached down, slowly, and took him in my hand, holding his gaze. His smile was wickedly pleased.

He let me go, and snagged one of the wide chairs. He sat down on it, his cock rearing proudly, and beckoned to me.

I slid off the table, legs still shaking, and stepped over to him. He didn't need to guide me now. I straddled him, settling my knees on either side of his hips on the wide chair seat. My hands gripped the curve of the chair's back. While he kissed my breast, I lifted myself, wriggling just _so_ , until he once more slipped inside me, filled me, making me moan with renewed pleasure. Haurchefant groaned, and pleased, I wriggled again. “Good...” I whispered.

He gripped my hips then, and flexed his legs. I gasped, and moaned, matching his rhythm. We rocked together, not fast, and with every stroke, another kiss, another groan of pleasure, another whisper of encouragement.

He shut his eyes, and held me tight. His hips bucked harder and harder, and I rode him, letting my head fall back, my cries driven out of me as I bounced up and down on his cock. I could feel the tension in him building, coil upon coil, and it drove me closer and closer to my own release. The scent of him, the mist-silk of his hair as it slipped across my hands, the sounds he was making, the delicate tracery of his silver eyelashes fluttering against his fine-boned cheeks – it all fed my desire.

He shuddered as he began to come, and I hung on, slamming myself against him even as he arched hard. His mouth fell open as he groaned. My head fell forward onto his shoulder as I let out a long, rising howl of complete release.

I stayed like that, in his lap, for a long time. Our hands would caress for a moment here and there, before dropping back to rest, as our breathing slowed. But eventually as the sweat dried, I began to shiver with chill, and reluctantly, we parted.

“I don't know,” I said to him as I got back into my pants, “how you aren't at least a _little_ chilly right now.”

He grinned as he pulled his own pants up over his hips. I watched, intrigued for a moment that though his cock was quiescent, it was still impressively thick. I had an abrupt desire to go down on him again. _Later. Gods, I'm not sixteen, I can keep it to myself for a while_.

Noticing me staring, his grin widened; then he answered my comment. “We Ishgardians are a hardy lot.”

Struck by the phrase, I paused a moment, my tunic in hand. Aymeric had said the exact same words.

“If you stay like that, my dear, you won't be getting any rest.”

I blinked, and blushed a little. “Perish the thought,” I murmured, but I slipped the tunic on.

Dressed, we faced each other once more.

Haurchefant reached for me and I stepped into his embrace gladly, nuzzling his shoulder. I felt lighter somehow, as if our love making had stripped away all my burdens. I knew it was an illusion, and fleeting, but I was grateful beyond words.

“Now what do we do?” I asked him softly.

“I finish catching up on my reports,” Haurchefant answered. “And you go get some sleep, my dear.”

“Am I? Dear to you?” I looked up at him, half smiling. “You've not called me that so often before.”

He smiled, and kissed me. “As dear to me as any of my very good friends.”

“I'm glad you have a lot of good friends,” I decided. “All that practice pays off in a big way.”

His laugh made me grin, and we parted with one last kiss.


	10. The Stunning Sharlayan

The black stones of Revenant's Toll came into view, gleaming in the early afternoon light.

“Berylla, tell me something,” Alphinaud said, out of the blue.

He'd been silent all day – throughout breakfast, and on the road south from Dragonhead.

“Hm?” Half asleep in the saddle, I looked over at him.

“You would never lie to me, would you?”

“Gods, what a question, Alphinaud.” I sat up and gave him a sharper look. “Of course I would never lie to you, I never have before. What's on your mind?”

“Oh...I don't know.” He shrugged, his eyes on the road. “I just got a feeling, yesterday, that perhaps there were things going on that you...weren't telling me about.”

“Come now, you've never needed to hear every detail of my day,” I began, but he shook his head.

“You know I don't mean that. I mean important things.”

I floundered for something to say. _Oh, well, I was just jumping Haurchefant's bones, no big deal._

Alphinaud gave me a sideways glance. “Am I nagging?”

I rubbed my face. “Maybe a little. It's...there were some personal things going on, yes. They aren't things I'm very comfortable talking about, though. Okay?”

“Very well.” He picked a bit of dirt off his sleeve. “I can respect your privacy.”

“Well, good. Thank you,” I said, nonplussed. “I still don't know what brought this on, though.”

“I woke up and you weren't there. I couldn't help but wonder.”

I swore under my breath. “You were sacked out when I left, and when I came back you were snoring.”

“I don't snore.”

“Yes you do...” I blinked. “You sneaky little _shit_.”

He actually laughed at that. “I was a little worried for you, that's all.”

“Well, don't be. I was fine last night, and I'm fine now.”

“Good.” He turned to look at me, and his face was serious. “I don't know what I would do, Berylla, if anything ever happened to you.”

I wanted to refute his words, but I couldn't come up with a single sensible thing to say before we were passing under the black stone arch of the town's wall.

As soon as we came in sight of the main square, a tiny figure in pink came running towards us. “You're back!!!”

Joy whistled and put her head down, and Tataru hugged the offered beak with a laugh. “Good to see _you_ too!” She ruffled Joy's crest feathers, and my bird made the ridiculous, silly noise that she only made for her favorite people.

I swung down, and went to one knee so that I could grab Tataru's hands in mine, our equivalent to a fond hug. “Good to be back,” I smiled. “Have you been keeping everyone in line?”

She winked. “Of course!”

I smirked at her. “Even Wedge?”

“Oh, you!” She smacked my leg, and I laughed out loud.

Alphinaud's greeting was more restrained, but no less sincere.

Tataru smiled up at us both. “Minfilia says she has some big news for you both, so why don't I take the birds for you, this once?”

Joy chirruped, nothing loathe; Alphinaud's bird bobbed her blue head as if agreeing. We both handed Tataru our reins. “Thank you, Tataru. You're a gem,” I told her.

“I know,” the Lalafellin girl laughed, and led the two birds away.

“Let's not keep the Antecedent waiting,” Alphinaud said, and I waved for him to take the lead.

I frowned at the papers on the desk, covered in numbers, diagrams, and more numbers. “Okay, I don't understand aether theory at all, so you realize this is...gibberish to me, right?”

“It isn't gibberish,” Alphinaud said absently, perusing the papers with deep interest. “It's _fascinating_. Where did you get these calculations, Minfilia?”

“My Sharlayan friend,” Minfilia answered, her lips curving in the gentle smile that seemed to soothe everyone's nerves. I took a step back from the desk, letting Alphinaud be fascinated to his heart's content. I'd never had much of a head for numbers to begin with, and higher magical theories were way beyond anything I knew. _I'd rather tangle with a dozen morbols than the kind of stuff on that page._

I hated feeling stupid, though. Minfilia, knowing me well enough to see my irritation, bent her soothing smile on me and said quietly, “My friend should be arriving today, as soon as the evening caravan arrives. We've developed quite a regular schedule around here now.”

“Still missing the sound of the sea?” I asked her, not without sympathy. Like Alphinaud, I had been fully in favor – pushing even – for the move to the Rising Stones, but I knew Minfilia had felt like she was giving up an old home.

“Not at all. This was the right decision. The quiet has been...marvelous.”

“I'm betting it doesn't hurt that your mother is here too.”

She gave me a glowing smile then. “No, that doesn't hurt a bit.”

I smiled back. Sometimes I didn't know how to connect with the Antecedent. She was strangely ageless, and though she was kind to everyone, she was also somehow unapproachable. Maybe it was her regal bearing – for me, at least, there was always a sense that she was as much a queen as Nanamo of Uldah. One didn't exactly sit and have an ale with a queen in the evenings.

_As if I'd know, anyway. Bah_. I put the thought out of my mind and got back on track.

“So this friend of yours is helping us with the “blade of light” thing?”

“She will also be able to help us with your mysterious aetheryte, too.”

“Oh, really?”

“She's quite the expert on aetherial flows. She and Urianger studied together, once.”

I pictured an older woman, with flowing silver hair and an elegant staff – someone like the Elder Seer, but more cerebral. Any friend of Urianger's was likely to speak in archaic riddles like he did, too. I wondered, hiding a sigh, if Thancred might be averse to a couple of rounds of card games this evening. I had no taste for lengthy discussions of esoteric mysteries.

There was a polite tap on the door. “The caravan has arrived, Antecedent.”

“Ah, good!” Minfilia glanced at Alphinaud, but he was bent over the desk, completely and utterly absorbed in his reading. She laughed a little, and looked to me. “Would you care to accompany me? I'm most eager for you to meet her.”

“Certainly,” I nodded, politely. _I'll meet and I'll greet and then I'll make my escape_ , I added to myself.

So, out we went, to stand near the very gate I'd just ridden through less than an hour before.

The caravan was mostly cargo, but it was obvious where the passenger carriage had stopped – all the supply wagons were off in the yard near the Splendors, swarming with porters. The much more colorful carriage was surrounded only by a few people – most of them the passengers getting off here, if all the stretching was any clue.

Minfilia waved as a tall woman with white hair turned our way.

“Minfilia!”

“Moenbryda! It's so good to see you!”

My mental image was blown to smithereens. Oh, she was tall – as tall as me, maybe a bit more – and she had the flowing silver hair, all right. But she wasn't old at all – I guessed her to be a year or so older than Minfilia. And she was wearing an outfit utterly unlike any scholar I'd ever met before – a short skirt and a tight fitting tunic-vest, and not a book in sight. Instead, a gorgeous, double bladed axe rode over her shoulder, as impressive as my own.

Minfilia turned to look at me, and hid her giggle with her hand. I closed my mouth with a snap.

“Welcome to Revenant's Toll,” I said to the stunning Sharlayan. “I'm Berylla.”

“Glad to meet you in the flesh,” Moenbryda smiled. “Minfilia's told me a lot about you. Did you _really_ face down a primal?”

I grinned a little. “I think my count is up to six now, not counting rematches.”

“Brilliant!” She turned her attention to Minfilia. “I'm perishing, Minfilia. Please tell me your Rising Stones has a bit of ale and food for a weary traveler?”

Minfilia laughed. “We do. Come, let's go make you comfortable.”

I followed the two of them, smiling. _Well! This might not be as boring as I'd feared_.

Thancred was even more taken with Moenbryda than I was – a fact that Yda seemed to find completely hilarious. Aether theory didn't even get mentioned that first evening, as Minfilia made introductions and Moenbryda made inroads on the ale.

She even drank Thancred under the table, a feat I didn't think could be accomplished.

But the next morning, the Sharlayan woman was up at dawn, and as perky as if she'd turned in early and not touched a drop of drink.

I stood in the solar, and listened to her explaining her pages of calculations to the others. I was still completely lost – but this time, I didn't mind.

“And so, if we can just get our hands on enough white auracite, and load it with enough aether, I think we should be able to create your “blade of light” on demand,” she concluded.

The door to the solar opened just then, and Urianger came in. “My lady Minfilia, I...”

Moenbryda's head turned, and her mouth dropped open. “ _Urianger!_ ”

She flung herself at the Elezen scholar.

Urianger had no chance at all to evade her. Before he could do more than take a half step back, Moenbryda had swept him up in her arms in a crushing hug. His sandals dangled three inches off the floor, and he struggled in her grip. “U-Unhand me!” he spluttered.

I had all I could do not to burst into gales of laughter, and by the looks on everyone's faces, I was not the only one.

“Where have you been hiding?!” Moenbryda demanded. “I've missed you so much!”

She set Urianger down, with a thump, and he coughed and backed away from her. His whole posture shouted indignation, but Moenbryda didn't seem to notice.

“My lady Minfilia,” Urianger said, his voice stiff. “I hath obtained the sample you requested.”

He produced an odd looking white rock, rough-carved into an oblong shape. Stepping past Moenbryda as if she were merely an inconvenient piece of furniture, he set the stone on the desk.

I traded glances with Alphinaud, but Moenbryda only rolled her eyes, her smile never wavering. She came over to the desk, and ran a finger across the stone. “White auracite! Where ever did you find such a mucking great chunk of it, Urianger?”

“I have contacts,” Urianger answered flatly.

“Thank you, Urianger,” Minfilia said calmly. “I appreciate the effort this must have taken on your part.”

He gave her a small bow, and stepped to the side of the desk, putting more distance between himself and Moenbryda. The tall Roe didn't seem to pay him any mind, staring at the auracite in deep thought.

“You know, Minfilia, it occurs to me, this may also help solve your aetheryte mystery.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, I'd need to examine the area, and the aetheryte you actually have access to, first...but I think I may be able to use the auracite as a kind of battery to...well.” She shook her head. “Why don't I go and examine the thing, before I say something foolish?”

She looked around at me. “Care to take a trip back into the snow?”

I nodded. “Anytime you're ready.”

A day later, and I found myself standing in front of the strange, broken-looking aetheryte. The Temple Knights had secured all the tunnels leading here – deliberately collapsing side tunnels to seal off any “unauthorized access.” So we had all simply strolled inside.

I looked around. Moenbryda stood staring intently at the deep-purple stone, occasionally making a gesture or muttering to herself. In a semi circle around her, waiting patiently, stood Yda, Papalymo, Thancred, Y'Shtola, and Urianger. Alphinaud stood beside me, watching with none of the interest I would have expected, his posture tense.

Moenbryda lifted the white auracite, and nodded. The five Scions began to channel aether, a sparkling glow of energy flowing from their outstretched hands into the stone. It began to glow.

“Berylla,” Alphinaud murmured, “I hope that this...that you'll...” He coughed a little. “I mean...”

“I'll be careful,” I promised him, my voice just as soft as his. “I promise.”

His shoulders lost a little of their tension. _One of these days, he's going to lose that need to always look composed. I wonder how spectacular the mess will be, when he finally lets loose?_

But my thoughts were pulled back to the present as the white auracite reached its capacity. The stone glowed brightly, casting our shadows back against the ice, and it emitted a two-note hum.

Moenbryda turned to face the aetheryte, and held the auracite aloft. Her face became still as she focused her will on the aether.

A narrow tendril of energy wafted out of the auracite, and struck the sleeping aetheryte.

The stone seemed to shudder once, and then light burst forth from it, and a tone that warred with the hum of the auracite. Y'Shtola set her hands over her ears at the dissonance.

Moenbryda's lips tightened, and thought there was no other outward sign, the tone coming from the auracite began to alter by fractions. The dissonance worsened, a sense of tension growing tighter and tighter. The noise made my teeth ache, and I noticed everyone else – except Moenbryda – beginning to wince as well.

When the tones finally locked into harmony, the relief was like a joint going back into its socket. All of us shook our heads a little, and Moenbryda's stony expression eased into a small smile. The auracite poured light into the waiting aetheryte. In moments, the light faded away.

“It worked. I think.” Moenbryda looked around at me, and she nodded. “Come on, then, try attuning now. Feel for the current, and try to find the beacon.”

I stepped forward, and lifted my hand. She was right – I _could_ feel the energy flows...rather like groping for a dagger in the dark. But I could likewise feel when I “grabbed” the beacon, and I performed that peculiar twist of the mind and will that would let me return to that beacon whenever I wished. Blinking slowly – it had taken more effort than attuning to Titan's aetheryte – I dropped my hand to my side.

“We've done all we can for now,” Alphinaud said quietly. “Let us leave this place.”

Outside, I bid everyone farewell. Alphinaud and Moenbryda stayed after the rest of the Scions had gone back to the carriage, to head home to the Rising Stones. I looked at the two of them.

“Well, when you make it back, I want to be the first to know,” Moenbryda's grin was cocky. “After all, you'll be the first person to make a trip like this and live to tell the tale!”

Alphinaud's smile was a little strained. “Make sure you take the best people you can, when you go in there,” he said simply. Then he seemed to remember something. “Oh! Also, Ser Aymeric left some sort of message for you. The knight over there has it.”

I approached the Temple Knight, and he saluted me gravely. “The Lord Commander asked me to read you this letter,” he began.

I held up a hand. “How about I save us both a bit of time and just take the letter? You're a nice fellow, and all, but I can read on my own.” I couldn't help myself. “I'm not a _complete_ barbarian.”

He seemed uncertain, but I held onto my smile until he finally gave a little shrug and handed the letter over.

_Ishgard faces an unprecedented threat. Yet in our hour of need, it is not her knights who stand poised to defend her. Warrior of Light, savior of Eorzea – your deeds this day shall not be forgotten._

_ Where others would flee, you choose to remain. Where others would falter, you rise to the challenge. Where others would use their gifts for selfish ends, you wield yours in service to a greater cause. _

_ May Halone bless you with good fortune and see you safely home. _

I folded the letter carefully and tucked it into my pouch, keeping my smile to myself. I walked back to Alphinaud's side. “I'd rather you waited for me back at Whitebrim,” I told him. “No reason for you to stay out here in the cold. This will be over quickly, one way or another.”

He eyed me, and I set my hand on his shoulder. “She's just a woman, Alphinaud. And even if I don't get there quite soon enough, this will be a primal weaker than any we've fought before – with fewer crystals to feed on and fewer followers, be they never so fervent.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Very well.”


	11. Match

I gave Joy's reins over to the stable boy, and walked into the tower. For a moment I just let the warmth wash over me. Then, I fixed a small smile on my face, and went up to the third floor to make my report – or as much of it as I felt capable of explaining.

The minute I came into view, Alphinaud's voice rang out.

“There she is─and none the worse for wear! Was there ever any doubt that the Warrior of Light would succeed?”

I blinked at his cheery tone, and then noticed how pink in the cheeks he was. My eyes went to Aymeric, standing just behind him, and the Lord Commander silently held up a small, metal flask.

_You blessed man, you got Alphinaud drunk? I can't decide if that's brilliantly awful, or awfully brilliant._

But Alphinaud was speaking again, his words only a tiny bit slurred. “I think I speak for us all when I say that I should like nothing more than to hear the stirring tale of your victory─if you would be so kind.”

As Alphinaud, Aymeric, and Lord Drillemont stood and listened, I gave them the basic facts – how I had arrived, had tried to reason with Iceheart, and had failed. How she had transmuted her own body into the form of Shiva – and how I and my allies had then brought her low.

“She escaped us at the very end,” I concluded, “but she was greatly weakened. I doubt she'll be organizing any raids for a while, at least.”

Alphinaud's cheeks had paled a bit, and he nibbled on his thumbnail a little. “So we were still too late to prevent the summoning.”

Aymeric shook his head. “But not too late to prevent further loss of life,” he chided. “An outcome worthy of celebration.” His eyes met mine. “And one for which we have Berylla to thank.”

Alphinaud shook his head. “Of course, you are right, Ser Aymeric. We should be content with what we have accomplished.”

Lord Drillemont nodded. Aymeric folded his arms across his chest for a moment. “I for one could not have wished for a better outcome. Shiva is no longer a threat, and the heretics have been routed. Aye, there is the matter of Iceheart's escape, but she cannot run forever. Whether it takes days, weeks, moons, or even years, my knights will find her.” He looked over at the commander.

“In the meantime─ Lord Drillemont, is the caravan ready?”

Drillemont gave a small bow. “The supplies that your men recovered have been prepared for transport, in accordance with your wishes. Rest assured that my knights _will_ see them safely to Revenant's Toll.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Aymeric smiled briefly.

Alphinaud raised his eyebrows. “I take it these are the selfsame supplies the heretics stole from the House Fortemps caravan?”

Aymeric nodded. “Less the crystals which comprised the bulk of the shipment, yes. Scarcely a fraction of that which was promised, but a meaningful contribution to your cause all the same.”

Alphinaud bowed to him, his grateful smile saying more than words would have done.

“Ah, on an unrelated note,” Aymeric looked at me. “Might I trouble you to accompany me to Camp Dragonhead at your earliest convenience? 'Tis not for my benefit. A certain lord was most distressed when he learned of your intent to risk life and limb to stop Iceheart. It took half a dozen knights to restrain him, I am told.”

My eyes widened, and I stepped back half a pace, astonished. I couldn't imagine Haurchefant ever losing control so much as to need to be _held back_...

Aymeric shook his head a little. “Men give vent to their anxieties in myriad ways. Pray do not think less of him.”

“Of course, Ser Aymeric,” I managed after a moment.

I kept silent as I rode among Aymeric's retinue of knights. I had too much on my mind to make conversation. Alphinaud rode beside the Lord Commander instead, presumably making whatever passed for small talk in diplomatic circles.

I pondered the things Iceheart had said to me, before she had vanished. I could accept that she, too, might possess a sliver of the same kind of power I held – Minfilia did, after all, and I had the impression she knew others who had been blessed by the Mother Crystal.

But I couldn't reconcile her claims of only wanting peace with the murders she'd committed with her own hands. At the same time, I also couldn't deny that I'd killed plenty of people myself. Was I so very different from Iceheart, really?

_No, I'm nothing like her. I'm_ _ **not**_ _!_

But I couldn't dismiss the whispering nibble of doubt in the back of my mind.

At Dragonhead, I went straight to the main hall, though Alphinaud accompanied Aymeric to the intercessory.

The moment I walked in, everyone in the hall turned to look at me, and stopped in their tracks.

Haurchefant shot out of his chair. “ _ **Berylla!**_ ”

For a moment I thought he was going assault me as he came around his desk, glaring at me ferociously.

I took a stance in front of him, squaring my shoulders. “I was told,” I said quietly, “that you wished to speak with me.”

“What were you _thinking_ , Berylla!?” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Wagering your very being on a dubious theory which _might_ allow you to enter Iceheart's lair─knowing full well that she could have sufficient forewarning to complete her ritual to summon Shiva anyway...?” His voice rose as he continued. “And then─and _then_ ─engaging the abomination in mortal combat!? By the Fury, Berylla! 'Tis the stuff of ballads! A battle for the ages! Would that I had been there to fight by your side!”

All around the room, men were staring at their commander's display. I tilted my head at him, my arms folded across my chest, standing my ground.

His eyes flickered around the room, and he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was much lower, but still quivering with emotion.

“Yet here I was forced to wait─ _condemned_ to wonder at the fate of a dear friend for a veritable _eternity!_ I would not wish such torture on my most hated enemy...”

He sighed, and swiped his hair out of his eyes. “But you are here now, and that is what truly matters.”

“Glad to see you, too,” I murmured, my lips quirking.

His eyes flashed. “I'm  _ most _ upset with you,” he warned, in a voice just as quiet.

“Ser Aymeric awaits us in the intercessory,” I said, loud enough for the room to hear. “Let us not keep him, Lord Haurchefant.”

I smiled blandly as he growled at me.

As we walked the short distance from the hall to the intercessory door, he murmured to me, “You had better be staying the night.”

I nodded. “I plan to,” I answered.

Once we were in the intercessory, Aymeric got right to the point.

“On behalf of the Holy See, let me express my deepest thanks,” he told me, his tones formal, but still warm. “Never before have we been required to contend with a primal. Indeed, there were fears in some quarters that our knights might not be equal to the task.”

Beside him, Lucia winced. _Seems like someone was pretty nasty in voicing their fears_.

“From what we have now learned of these beings,” Aymeric continued, “I can say with certainty that we would have lost a great many men had the Scions not intervened.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Alphinaud spoke up. “Then the argument for preemptive action should be self-evident. Perchance now you will reconsider my proposal that Ishgard move against Natalan?”

“The policy of the Holy See has been to observe, and to take military action only in self-defense,” Aymeric reminded him gently. “Since the Calamity, two vigils have fallen to the Dravanians, while Garuda has shown no inclination to storm the Gates of Judgment.”

Alphinaud's eyes narrowed, and he started to speak, but Aymeric wasn't finished.

“Which is why this unprecedented crisis and its resolution _may_ prompt a change in that policy.”

Alphinaud let the breath he'd taken out, and shifted his weight back a little, listening hard.

“You who have faced these primals know well the threat they pose. Ishgard did not – not until now.” With the slightest smile, he added wryly, “There is naught like a brush with death to change a man's outlook.”

“The Holy See will surely no longer object to our support of Revenant's Toll,” Haurchefant pointed out. “They may even grant us their formal endorsement.”

“So far as it is possible, the Scions shall be compensated for their service,” Aymeric nodded.

“We should be grateful for any aid you can provide,” Alphinaud spread his hands, his words cautious.

“As a gesture of good faith,” Aymeric offered, “I shall withdraw my earlier request. Your people are surely needed elsewhere.”

“That won't be necessary,” Alphinaud shook his head. “We too have an interest in watching Dravania's movements, after all.”

The two of them exchanged polite nods, but Alphinaud's eyes were still narrowed.  _ He's waiting for something, but what? _ I eyed them both, wondering just what else could possibly require discussion.

As if he'd only just remembered something, Aymeric looked over at Haurchefant. “Ah, yes. Lord Haurchefant, if you would be so kind?”

“Certainly.” Haurchefant stepped over to Alphinaud, and handed him a folder, thick with papers.

“In times such as these, trust is ever in short supply,” Aymeric said, sitting back in his chair, looking pleased. “Maybe this will go some way to rectify the problem.” He gestured to the papers. “The results of our investigation into the heretics, and our interrogation of the merchant you and your Braves helped apprehend.”

“Ser Aymeric...” Alphinaud's expression slipped for a moment, and he gave Aymeric a look of pure gratitude. “Words cannot express my thanks enough.”

“Ishgard is many things, but she is no friend to the Empire,” Aymeric told him.

A few more polite words were exchanged, but soon enough we were finished. Alphinaud and I took our leave. “We have much to discuss back at the Rising Stones,” he said, holding the folder close to his chest.

“Why don't you go on ahead of me?” I told him. “You can look over all that stuff, in relative comfort. There's no real rush for me to return, is there?”

He looked up at me, blue eyes full of questions.

“Well, no, there's no reason for you to hurry back, I suppose. Though Minfilia will want to hear about Shiva from you directly.”

“She will,” I promised. “I'd just like to rest a little before plunging myself into  _ that _ sea of chaos.”

He chuckled a little. “Yes, your story is like to create quite a stir. Very well, I'll go now. I should be able to get there before nightfall.”

“I'll join you there in no more than two days,” I promised.

He wasted no time, calling for his bird and mounting up as soon as he safely stowed the precious folder. As he turned to head out the south gate, I waved to him cheerfully.

Then I went looking for Haurchefant.

I found him out in the west courtyard, where striking dummies had been set up, and where many of the knights took their personal exercise. Torches and benches lined three of the walls, and the majority of the floor was covered in sand, the fighting area marked off by wooden timbers. Haurchefant was working against a dummy, stripped to the waist. I watched him for a few minutes, leaning against the archway, until he noticed me.

He grounded his practice sword and looked at me without speaking.

I kept my voice even. “Still upset with me?”

He looked away, but I could see his jaw clench.

I shed my weapon, and shrugged out of my vest. Then I walked over to the racked practice weapons, and surveyed them. No axes, but that was hardly a surprise; Ishgardian knights fought with swords, sometimes lances, never axes. Finally I picked a broad, heavy sword and a tall shield. I stepped into the sand, and beckoned to Haurchefant. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

He moved toward me, but stopped just before crossing over into the sand. “I don't want to hurt you, Berylla.”

I laughed. “Do you think you  _ can _ ?”

His eyes flashed and he stiffened at my mocking tone.

I beckoned again. “My blood is up, so is yours,” I said. “Come on, Haurchefant. It's rude to keep the lady waiting.”

He stepped into the sand and approached me. I took up a stance and grinned at him, taunting. “You say you should have fought at my side,” I said. “Prove to me you could have kept up, lover boy.”

That did it. He scowled, and rushed me.

He was a sword and shield fighter. I wasn't trained that way, but I wasn't unfamiliar with the techniques. I knew that, given time, he'd probably be able to defeat me, but I didn't care about winning this match. I had a whole other goal in mind.

So as he charged toward me, obviously intending to knock me flat on my ass with his shield, I side-stepped and whirled, and the tip of my practice sword swished dangerously close to his side.

“I'm not a child, Haurchefant,” I told him. “Don't hold back.”

His eyes narrowed and he came at me again, trying a three-stroke pattern. But he'd obviously forgotten that I'd seen him fight, seen his patterns before, and I blocked him perfectly.

“Are you even trying?”

He cursed under his breath and stopped playing around.

Almost immediately he had me on my heels, crashing against me shield-to-shield and forcing me back a few paces, his sword swiping at me from the side. I swatted his blade away, and grinned at him. “That's what I'm talking about!”

Then I set my feet and shoved him with every ounce of my strength. He staggered back almost a yard, face blank with shock for a moment. I followed up the shove with a charge of my own, and neatly cracked him across the arm. The practice blade left a welt, and he yelled in momentary pain.

But he was fast, and before I'd passed him by more than a pace, he whirled and lashed out with his own sword. I yelped in indignation as I felt the smack across my buttocks.

After that, we chased each other all over the ring for a few exchanges. I threw myself at him, and bound his blade. We strained against each other, faces mere inches apart. “I really like seeing you all sweaty like this,” I told him in a low voice, almost purring. “Clearly I should be making you work harder in bed.”

His eyes widened in shock and I kicked his shield. He lost his balance and went sprawling.

“Well, now, that wasn't a very dignified loss,” said a voice from the archway.

Both of us looked up in surprise. Leaning on the wall just inside the arch was Aymeric.

My mouth went dry.

He was wearing a sky-blue silk shirt this time, the sleeves rolled up. His pants were black leather, and so tight that I was abruptly glad he usually wore that flowing cloak. If I'd had to stare at those legs in our previous conversations, I would never have gotten a coherent word out.

Haurchefant cleared his throat, and got up. “She cheated.”

I laughed.

Aymeric smiled, and moved over to the weapons rack. “Shall I defend your honor, dear Haurchefant?”

_ Wait, what? _

Before I could say anything, Aymeric had picked up the heaviest practice blade on the rack, and had stepped into the sand.

He came right up to me, and looked me in the eyes. “Or is the Warrior of Light unwilling to bout against a mere Lord Commander?”

I tossed my head. “Hardly,” I scoffed. “Bring it on.”

He took a single step back, and then swept his blade up in a devastating arc.

I spun towards him and struck him in the stomach with the point of my elbow.

I continued my whirl and dashed away a few yards. When I turned back, he was straightening, wheezing a little, one hand on his belly.

“She fights dirty,” Haurchefant said, in an “I told you so” tone.

Aymeric grunted, and stalked toward me, his sword held in a guard position. I held my ground, watching how he moved.  _ He's used to defending, both of them are. Dragons will fling themselves at the enemy, and most of them have no tactics to speak of. _ My lips curved.  _ You haven't seen  _ _** dirty ** _ _ fighting yet, Haurchefant darling _ .

As soon as he was in range, Aymeric flicked his sword out toward me. I stayed put, and the sword barely tapped my shield. I feinted to the left, but he didn't fall for it, and I shuffled a little to the side, keeping my shield up.

With no wind-up or warning, he unleashed a flurry of blows on me, bashing my shield arm and driving me backwards. I stumbled, and my arms went wide. His sword whistled as he struck, and I yelped again, dropping the shield as my fingers went numb and a welt appeared across my wrist.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I wrapped both hands around the hilt of my sword, and charged him. He stood his ground, and then – vanished!

_** Roll! ** _ My reflexes took over before my mind had fully registered what had happened.

I dropped and shoulder-rolled, and felt the impact as he struck the ground where I had been. He had leaped at least two yards into the air, and come down on my position like a lightning bolt!

I scrambled to my feet, my hair in my eyes – my hair tied had come loose somewhere in that desperate roll. I clawed at it, clearing my vision just in time to see him leap again.

“Oh, hell.” I wasn't going to escape.  _ This is going to leave one hell of a mark _ ...


	12. Hot Water

Aymeric came down on top of me, his blade barely an inch from hitting me, and knocked me flat on my back.

Breathing hard, he knelt over me, the edge of his blade resting delicately against my throat. “Do you yield?”

I smiled up at him, panting. “Might want to check yourself, Lord Commander.”

He glanced down, and saw that I'd managed to get my own blade in against his ribs – a death blow, if we'd been using real weapons.

“Check what?” Haurchefant's blade came to rest against my left temple.

I laughed softly. “Who's cheating, now?”

“The wise man,” Aymeric said, “adapts his tactics to his foe. Honor is for fools and romantics.”

I let go of my sword, and lifted my empty hand. “I yield to the wise man.”

Aymeric leaned back, panting. Haurchefant took a step back, and I lay there, my arms loose across my chest, laughing softly as I caught my breath.

Aymeric held his hand out to me, and I accepted it, levering myself into a sitting position.

Haurchefant gathered up the practice weapons, and racked them. Then he came back over to the two of us.

“Feeling better?” I asked him, scraping my hair away from my face.

He sat on his heels and looked at me. After a moment he brushed his hand against my face, and I held in a wince as I realized I had a bruise on my cheek. “No,” Haurchefant murmured.

My laughter died. I took his hand in mine and pressed my cheek into his palm, ignoring the pain. “I'm sorry that I made you worry.”

“We need a soak,” declared Aymeric.

Haurchefant stood, and held me to my feet. I scuffed my foot in the sand, but I didn't see the hair tie anywhere.  _ Drat, I don't have another one with me. Oh well. _

I walked over to pick up my axe and my vest, but Haurchefant stopped me, and picked both up himself. I raised my eyebrows, but let him have his way.

I followed the two of them, noticing that the sun was sinking below the mountains.

Folks passed us as we walked, but no one did more than nod politely. Haurchefant stopped a squire before we reached the northern gate. “These must go to Lady Berylla's room.”

The squire accepted the axe and the vest, and nodded before turning. I bit my lip as he staggered a little before figuring out how to balance the axe properly. Haurchefant took my elbow and tugged me along.

But when I would have turned toward the hot springs, he pulled me in the opposite direction.

I gave him a quizzical look, but he didn't seem to notice.

He and Aymeric walked with sure steps, so I kept following them, along a faint path in the snow that wound around and climbed up a small hill.

Just before I was ready to stop and demand to know why we were walking a mile away from the keep, we arrived.

Haurchefant saw my expression, and smiled at last.

Below us was a tiny pocket of a valley, nestled between small hills. Cedars and junipers clung to the hillside, making a haven of green against the white. In the middle of the valley bubbled a hot spring, which appeared to be flowing into an eight sided hut.

I was enchanted. The hut looked rustic and welcoming, and I had the feeling this was something like the women's steam house at the keep.

We went down into the valley as the twilight began to gather, and Aymeric unlocked the door and opened it. He and Haurchefant both stood to the side, and waved for me to go in first.

The outside of the hut was rough wooden shakes and timbers – the inside, though, was all smooth-sanded wood. A huge stone tub filled up most of the room, and I could hear water gurgling.  _ The hot water from the spring must flow in and then be carried out somehow _ .

It wasn't  _ all _ tub, though. Wooden floors surrounded the big tub. Aymeric and Haurchefant came inside, and began lighting lamps, one on each wall. Then Haurchefant stepped back outside. I stood still, just gazing around.

There were shelves on two of the walls, with what looked like towels and blankets and other such things neatly stacked. The wall that held the door also held hooks and racks – obvious places for coats or weapons or the like. The wall directly across the room from the door seemed to be home to a very large wardrobe. There was even a small iron radiator, right beside the wide bed.

I felt myself blushing, and dragged my eyes away from the neatly folded green coverlet.

Haurchefant came back inside, and I looked over at him as I heard glass clinking.

He had a net bag full of brown glass bottles, which he carefully set down before he closed the door and made sure it was latched.

Aymeric stretched, and I watched the silk of his shirt sliding across his torso. He was leaner than Haurchefant, and a little taller. He walked across to that big wardrobe. I stared at his rear end, my head full of thoughts that were downright filthy. I swallowed, and forced my mind to stop trying to imagine him naked.

Haurchefant picked up the net bag, and brought it over to where Aymeric was rummaging.

“These are the last bottles we had, you'll have to bring some more next time.”

“Only if you remember to remind me.”

In the ring, I'd been relaxed, unafraid, even when I was sure that I was about to get walloped.

Now, all that was gone. I felt even more nervous than I had that first night with Haurchefant. I remembered how he'd told me, “We would have made room for you.” My heart gave a painful thump, and I eased toward the door.  _ Maybe I should just go. I don't know if I can handle this _ ...

Haurchefant looked up and saw me. He walked around the room and took my hands in his. “Berylla, you look like you're going to faint. Calm down.”

“I'm f-fine.”

He raised one eyebrow, and I looked away, knowing I was blushing and stammering, yet again.  _ How does he reduce me to this so easily? _

He let go of my hands and embraced me gently. “Come now,” he murmured. “Nothing is going to happen.”

I leaned back a little, and looked at him dubiously. He chuckled softly. “All right, nothing is going to happen unless you say yes. Better?”

My eyes flickered from him to Aymeric and back. “Okay,” I managed.

“We're going to soak our bruises,” he told me, brushing my hair back a little. “We're going to eat a little, and drink the last of the beer, and if that's all you're comfortable with, we will stop there.”

“Okay, s-sure.”

“You trust me, don't you?”

I nodded, shakily.

“Then trust Aymeric. Neither of us is going to assault you, for heavens' sake.”

“Unless you ask us to,” Aymeric said.

My eyes flew toward him, only to realize he was already in the tub.

For a breathless moment I couldn't look beyond his face, but then I realized he was wearing some sort of loin covering. I put my hands over my face and tried to just breathe.

Haurchefant laughed, very softly, and kissed my forehead. Then he set his hands on my shoulders, and turned me towards the shelves. “There are things there you can use. And yes, my dear, we will not look.”

I made an exasperated noise, and frowned at him. “You're too kind, sir knight,” I answered sarcastically.

He just grinned and let me be.

I looked at the shelves, and realized that there were simple clothes there. Drawstring pants – no, shorts really – and loose tunics. Suddenly I felt as if I had an entire boot-full of sand in my clothes, and I wasted no more time, skinning out of my clothes and into the loose things.

I turned around and saw that both men were in the tub now.

I came closer, and noticed that the tub had seats carved into it. I climbed in, carefully, and sat down on a seat across from Aymeric. The water soaked through the clothes I'd borrowed, but I realized with a touch of relief that the heavy cloth wasn't going to “show” anything much.

Haurchefant passed me a glass bottle, already opened. Aymeric was drinking from one, and I sipped cautiously.

Then I raised my eyebrows in delight. “What the hell is this? It's delicious.”

“Ishgardian lager,” Aymeric answered, with a small sigh. He shut his eyes and slid down in the water until it came halfway up his chest. “It requires cold temperatures and a lot of time to make.”

“It's like nothing I've had before,” I said, taking another swallow. “Like ale but...but...”

“Better?” Haurchefant suggested, smiling.

“ _ So _ much better.”

“Here, try this too.” Haurchefant handed me a piece of sausage. “Goes well with the beer.”

He was right.

On the second beer, I broke the silence.

“I'm going to ask a stupid question. Do me the kindness of answering me _before_ you laugh at me, please.”

Aymeric seemed about to say something, but Haurchefant put his hand on Aymeric's arm and shook his head slightly. I took another big swallow of beer.

“Have you really been flirting with me?”

“I have.”

“But you and Haurchefant...?”

Haurchefant sat back against the tub, watching the two of us, covering his mouth with one hand.

Aymeric took a long pull of his own beer. “Well, about that.” He gave Haurchefant a sideways look. “Only with _him_.”

I blinked a few times. “So you...weren't asking about Alphinaud because of...of...”

“I prefer women,” Aymeric said firmly. “But Haurchefant – well...”

“He's _Haurchefant_ ,” I nodded. _That_ much, I could understand.

Haurchefant stretched, his expression so smug that I couldn't help myself. I started to giggle, then to crow with laughter. Haurchefant joined in, and even Aymeric chuckled a little.

Then I hiccuped.

I drank the rest of the bottle, forcing the spasms to subside.

Silently, Haurchefant offered me another. I took it, and drank one more swallow before I risked trying to talk.

“Well, at least that's no longer a point of confusion,” I managed.

“She was jealous of you,” Haurchefant told Aymeric. “Saw you coming to my room and had a fit.”

“I did _not_ have a fit,” I frowned. “I just...went to work off the frustration.”

“Fifteen karakul worth of frustration?” Haurchefant grinned.

“Dear Haurchefant,” Aymeric said mildly, “You've mastered creating frustration that defies explanation.”

I choked on my sip of beer, and Haurchefant had to come over to where I sat and pat my back until I could get my breath again.

When I finally recovered, he turned his patting into stroking, making little circles across my shoulders. “So, what shall we do now, my dear?”

I eyed him. My stomach fluttered. “I have no idea.”

“What, none at all?”

I drank half of my beer in one go. “N-not a clue.” _Damn it, stuttering again_.

Aymeric set his bottle down. “You could come over here.”

 _Do I want this? What the hell am I getting into? Oh, gods, I don't know_...

I drained my bottle of beer and set it aside with a clank. “All right.”

I waded across the tub, and stopped, a hand's breadth away from Aymeric. I looked into his eyes – now the color of the sea before a storm – and waited, my lips pressed together as I tried to hide how much I was trembling.

He lifted his hands to my face. Water ran down my cheeks as he stroked them with his thumbs. His eyes drifted half-closed as he slid his hands into my hair, and ran his fingers through it. This close, I could see how gorgeous and long his eyelashes were. I wondered if he would shut his eyes when he came.

He set his hands on my shoulders, and made me turn so that my back was to him. Then he pulled me closer, his hands gentle around my waist as he settled me on his knee.

I set my hands over his arms as he rested his chin on my shoulder. I looked at Haurchefant, who sat, simply watching us as he sipped his own beer. I swallowed hard. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.

Haurchefant finished off his beer and set the bottle aside, and then came to kneel in front of us.

“Are you still comfortable?” he murmured to me.

“I d-d-don't know.” I tried to breathe slower. “I c-can't...”

“Are you thinking too much again, my dear?”

My breath hissed between my teeth. “M-maybe.”

“Sh,” he soothed me, taking my hands in his.

Aymeric hugged me tighter, and pressed his temple against mine. “Sh,” he echoed. “We won't hurt you.”

Haurchefant rubbed his thumb along the welt on my wrist, where Aymeric had struck me.

“Haurchefant, be careful,” Aymeric warned. “Did I not just say, we wouldn't hurt her?”

“It's helped her before.”

“That may well be, but there are other ways.”

“Such as?”

Aymeric shifted his hold on me. “Stretch out,” he told me. “Float on your back.”

Slowly, I moved away from him. My hair, drenched in the water, floated out around my head. Sounds were muffled as the water covered my ears.

“Hold her, Haurchefant.”

I felt Haurchefant's hands on me – steadying me more than holding me – and then felt Aymeric moving. He buried his hands in my hair, and for a moment I tensed.

But then his long fingers began to massage my scalp, pausing every few strokes to comb through my hair before returning. My eyes closed, and I felt my body relaxing under that soothing touch.

_There were seven bottles, weren't there? How many did I have...? Surely I'm not drunk_.

“She's falling asleep.”

“Am not,” I murmured. I opened one eye and lifted my right hand, languidly. “But I'm getting all wrinkled now.”

“Time to get out, then,” Aymeric agreed.

They kept their hands on me even as we got out of the water. I let them lead me, feeling fuzzy and almost faint.

“You shouldn't have given her that third beer,” Aymeric said, over my head, as he dried my hair for me.

“Well, she's relaxed now, at least.”

“I'm standing right here, damn it.”

“So you are. Take off the wet clothes, won't you?”

“All right.” My fingers felt thick and clumsy, but I managed. Being naked in Aymeric's arms, leaning against his bare chest, no longer troubled me. Everything was too distant to matter.

Haurchefant wrapped a thick robe around me, but even so, I shivered violently at the sudden chill.

“Can you walk, my dear?”

“Sure I can walk.” But I leaned heavily on his shoulder as he led me across the room. Everything tilted crazily.

He scooped me up in his arms, and set me on the bed carefully. I managed to get into a sitting position, leaning against the wall, feet pulled up part way underneath myself. “Water?” I asked.

“Good idea,” he smiled, and moved off.

I watched Aymeric drying off, my eyes half-closed. He was toned, and his ass was just as spectacular in the buff as it had been when encased in tight black leather. The thought didn't embarrass me as it had earlier. _I think I_ _ **am**_ _a little drunk_.

As Aymeric pulled on a pair of loose pants, Haurchefant returned with a turned wooden mug. I took it from him with a murmur of thanks, and drank deeply of the cold water. Haurchefant kissed my forehead, and walked over to where Aymeric still stood.

The two of them spoke softly, as Haurchefant stripped and dried off. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I let myself enjoy seeing Haurchefant naked too.

When Aymeric reached out and took Haurchefant's chin in his hand, my heart stopped. And when Aymeric then leaned in for a slow, steamy kiss, I thought I really _was_ going to pass out.

I drank the rest of the water in my mug all at once, and tried to catch my breath. I had been chilled, but now I felt sweat trickling along my scalp.

I didn't register them approaching until Haurchefant reached out to take the mug away from me.

He set the mug on the nearest shelf, and turned down the covers before he sat down on the bed next to me.

Silently, Aymeric also got into bed, on the other side of Haurchefant from me, and slid back until he was leaning against the wall too. He stretched his long legs out, his feet nearly reaching the edge of the bed.

“Feeling a little better?” Haurchefant asked.

I nodded. “Cold...and nervous, a little.” I spoke very slowly, to keep from stammering.

“Well then,” Haurchefant kissed me gently, “Let's make you more comfortable.”

Aymeric held out one hand to me. “Come.”

I made my way across the bed to him, on all fours. With gentle tugs, he turned me so that once again my back pressed against his chest. His right arm draped over my shoulder, and his hand rested on my belly. I leaned my head against the smooth skin of his shoulder, and rubbed my cheek against him a little. The welt across my buttocks twinged a little as he pressed me closer.

Haurchefant turned so that he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and reached for me. “Foot.”

“Huh?”

“Your foot,” he repeated patiently. “Give it here.”

I extended my leg, and set my foot in his outstretched hand, gingerly. When he started to rub along the arch of my foot, I sighed.

“You can do that until the next Calamity,” I mumbled.

He laughed quietly.

Aymeric shifted, and picked up my left hand, easing it away from my body so that he could see the mark he had made. His left arm came around me, and he began to carefully stroke around the bruise, soothing the skin more than massaging.

I watched his fingers, noticing again how long and elegant they were. “Do you play any instruments?” I asked, idly.

“No. My mother disapproved of musicians,” he answered.

“Is she one of those who believe that performers are lesser beings?”

“She was.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Okay.” I felt as if I were floating. He let go of my hand, and stroked my hair a little. He tugged at it, and I leaned my head back in response to that mild urging.

He traced my jaw with one finger, and then trailed that light touch down my neck, to my collarbone. I closed my eyes. Haurchefant's hands had moved from the arch of my foot to my ankle, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my foot.

My arms felt heavy as I shifted, and curled my right arm around Aymeric's neck. He leaned down as I lifted my head a little, and our lips met.

He tasted my mouth, delicately, as if sipping a fine wine. Everywhere that I touched him, he was wonderfully warm; when his hand slipped down inside my robe, I murmured softly and curved my back, bringing my breast against his palm.

The flesh tightened, the pleasure trickling through me.

Haurchefant, meanwhile, slid his hands up my leg, stroking the calf muscle, nudging my knees apart slightly.

I lay my head back against Aymeric's arm, and opened my eyes. Everything had gone fuzzy around the edges.

“Haurchefant,” he murmured.

“Hm?”

“Stop.”

I rolled my head to the side a little. “Don't have to stop...”

“You are drunk,” Aymeric told me. “Continuing would be taking advantage of you.”

“Yeah...but I won't stop you.”

Haurchefant's breath was warm against my leg as he leaned his head on my knee and laughed.

“I think we'll sleep now,” Aymeric said.

“But aren't you...?” I was too relaxed, too tired, for tact.

“Sh.”

My eyes drifted shut, but I could still hear them as they shifted around. As Haurchefant drew the blankets up over us all, I turned toward Aymeric and cuddled against him, one hand resting against his ribs. “So warm,” I sighed.

Haurchefant pressed against my back, his arm going around my waist as he kissed my shoulder. “You'll certainly be warm tonight,” he agreed. “Now sleep.”

“Only an idiot would fall asleep now,” I yawned.

“Sh,” Aymeric kissed my forehead. “Sleep.”

I sighed one more time, and let sleep draw me down.

I woke with a little groan. My head felt furry on the inside.

“Good morning, my dear.”

I opened one eye and saw Haurchefant lying beside me, on his side, silver hair tousled.

“Morning.” I groaned again, then opened both eyes. “Wait a minute. This isn't your room.” Then I remembered. The beer. The hot water. Aymeric... “Oh, gods.”

“Calm yourself, you lovely little fool,” Haurchefant said sternly. “Nothing happened. You fell asleep.”

“I fell asleep? I was drunk, wasn't I?”

“You were. Aymeric scolded me for letting you have that third beer.”

“I...I don't remember...?”

“There's nothing to remember, my dear. Truly.” He kissed my forehead. “It would hardly have been the gentlemanly thing to do, to take advantage of a drunk woman.” His smile turned wicked. “Not very much fun, either. You were boneless.”

I put my hand over my eyes. “Oh my gods,” I groaned. “I'm an idiot.”

“Sometimes, but not last night.” He tugged my hand down, and kissed my fingers. “Last night, you were adorable.”

I grimaced. “I'm not an adorable sort,” I grumbled.

His eyes crinkled. “If you say so.”

I leaned up on my elbows. “W-what time is it, anyway?”

He smiled. “Morning, but not late morning.” He leaned forward and kissed my lips. “And seeing as you have no obligations today...and neither do I...”

“Food first,” I told him, setting my hands against his chest. “And water. Gods, please, just water.”

He laughed and let me have my way.

By the time I ventured back out into the snow, it was past noon. But I felt a hundred times better than I had yesterday. Humming under my breath a little, I made my way to the room I was supposed to have slept in.

But as I crossed into the keep proper, a figure stepped into my path.

I stopped, surprised. “Lucia? Is there something I can do for you?”

The lady-knight pushed me against the wall. “You can shut your mouth and listen.”

My hand started to reach for my weapon, before I realized it wasn't on my back. _What the hell has gotten into her?_

“I'm only going to say this once,” Lucia told me, her eyes cold. “The Lord Commander is _not_ for you to toy with.”

My jaw dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don't treat me like an idiot,” she snapped. “I know where you were last night.”

My face paled, and I shook my head.

Her lip curled. “Don't bother to deny it. It is my business to know _exactly_ where the Lord Commander is at all times when we are not in the city. _I saw you with him_.”

“But nothing happened,” I tried to tell her, but she wasn't listening.

“You don't know anything about Ishgard. You don't know anything about _him_. Don't delude yourself. Just because that silver-haired tom-cat of a knight thinks highly of you, no one else here does the same.”

My fists curled at my sides. “I won't bother refuting whatever idiotic fantasies you've conjured for yourself,” I snarled. “But you'd better back the fuck off, or the Lord Commander is going to need a new shadow.”

“Don't come near him again,” she warned me. Then she turned on her heel and stalked away.


	13. Blessings

_A lot can happen in two weeks...and all this from just those papers Aymeric gave us._

I hefted the crate and turned the corner, and saw blue uniforms. _Finally. This thing is getting heavy. I'm an adventurer, not a fucking porter._

I walked up to where Yuyuhase, Alianne, and Wilred stood together at the top of a short flight of steps. As they turned towards me, I set the crate down at their feet.

Alianne frowned, but Yuyuhase looked pleased enough. Wilred chattered to me for a moment, full of excitement about his “first real mission,” and I listened to him with a small smile. He'd come a damn long way from the moody young man who'd nearly gotten himself and his friends turned into burnt sacrifices. All sign of resentment was gone from his eyes now. _One of the better things I've “wrought,” or at least helped bring about._

But even as I listened, I eyed Alianne and Yuyuhase. A snake of uncertainty coiled in my belly. Something was off, somehow.

Finally Alianne spoke. “Riol stated with confidence that there would be a far greater quantity of weapons.”

Yuyuhase waved his hand, languidly dismissing her words. “Clearly Riol is unfamiliar with the exaggerations of Uldahn merchants,” he said smoothly, and then dismissed Alianne and Wilred to their assignment – and, subtly, dismissing me as well.

I turned away, and saw Riol leaning up against the wall, managing to go unnoticed despite the blue uniform. He nodded to me, casually, but as I passed by him, he said in a low voice, “A word, if it please you. Not here. At the market.”

I nodded and kept walking. The snake in my belly coiled tighter. Riol wasn't one to mince words. He didn't want anyone but me to hear whatever it was he had to say. Something was wrong; something with the Braves, maybe?

I wandered a little bit, making my way down the market lanes in a casual way. I did a little bit of shopping even – getting a length of cotton and a pot of my favorite dye from a weaver friend, and replacing my very worn old belt knife with a new one. It was a hot day – it was almost _always_ a hot day, in Uldah – but when I saw Riol again, sipping a mug of something in the shade, I made my way to the nearby drink vendor.

I ordered one his cold fruit ices (the blue one was the tastiest) and picked out a spot where I could lean against the wall, sharing the narrow strip of shade with Riol and a potted tree. With the tree between us, we could speak without anyone being the wiser. I took a long swallow of the cold, sweet drink. “Well?”

“Thanks for indulgin' me.” Riol brought his mug to his lips, lowered, and then said, “When you and Ilberd apprehended them fellows – how'd it go down? Tell me everything you can remember.”

I obliged him, turning the details over in my mind as I related them to him.

“Hm.” He pretended another sip. “That's not quite how the First told it.” He glanced over at me through the leaves. “You never saw 'em yourself? Not before the fightin', and not after?”

I nodded. He'd put his finger directly on what was bothering me about the whole thing. I'd heard shouts – but not shouts of anger. Shouts of confusion, panic, and...maybe betrayal. _Ilberd didn't give me the whole story_. The snake in my belly raised its head.

“Ilberd sent me off immediately,” I told Riol, slowly. “I had no chance to see any bodies, or anything else.” I frowned. _Why didn't I demand to inspect?_

“Somethin' ain't right. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it in me bones.”

“But why?” I frowned into my blue fruit ice. “There's nothing to gain from it.”

Riol stirred, and I glanced over at him. “There's not...is there?” I asked.

Abruptly he bent, and poured out his mug over the roots of the potted tree. “I don't know.” His voice was grim. “I'll keep an eye on it.” He straightened and nodded to me once. “Thanks for listenin' to me. Maybe I'm just seein' things that ain't there...”

“I don't think you are, for what it's worth.”

He gave me a two-fingered salute and a small smile. Then he walked off. I stayed where I was, and sipped my drink. But somehow, it didn't taste very good anymore.

My link-pearl chimed in my ear. “Yes?”

“Your presence is urgently requested at the Rising Stones!” Tataru's voice was fluttery with agitation.

“On my way.” I poured out my drink the same as Riol had done, and headed out.

When I arrived, Tataru seemed calmer, but she was frowning.

“What's going on?”

“A most – um – determined lady arrived, saying she was an emissary from Ishgard. And then Minfilia asked me to contact you, saying it was urgent, but she wouldn't tell me _why_.”

A lady? I bit down a little disappointment, and sternly told my mind to forget about tousled black curls and blue, blue eyes. _Gods, Berylla, you're hopeless_. _He didn't come here in person, probably because this is something really serious._

The door to the solar opened and Minfilia leaned out. “Tataru, can you – oh. Berylla, you've arrived, good.” Over her shoulder I could see a cap of smooth blond hair. _Shit. It's Lucia. I should have known._

I gave Minfilia a polite smile.

“We'll need you in just a moment,” Minfilia told me. “I need that watch roster, the one for the lake, Tataru.”

“Here you are,” Tataru said, reaching without looking for the paper on her desk, and handing it over. Minfilia took it with a brief, distracted smile, and shut the door.

I perched on the arm of a chair, and tried to wait quietly. My mind kept conjuring up the last time I'd seen Lucia.

_“You don't know anything about Ishgard. You don't know anything about_ _ **him**_ _. Don't delude yourself. Just because that silver haired tom-cat of a knight thinks highly of you, no one else here does the same.”_

I'd nearly punched her in the face. I doubted she had forgotten.

I wanted to get this over with quickly. The less time I was around Lucia, the better.

I stood and listened to everything Lucia and Minfilia had to say, tapping my finger against my belt. I grasped what she – what Ishgard – wanted almost immediately, but Minfilia seemed determined to drag out the conversation.

Finally I couldn't take it. “So you're saying you want us to go inspect a dead dragon, up close and personal. Mostly to reassure your star-gazers that he's really dead?”

Lucia nodded firmly. “If the astrologians are correct, and Midgardsormr is stirring...the danger would be...”

“Very great. You said that. Twice.”

Lucia's eyes narrowed, but she closed her lips. Minfilia's gentle smile took on a hint of strain.

I turned to the Antecedent. “Well,” I said briskly. “We did agree to this. Ishgard has kept up their part in the agreement. Guess it's time to hold up our end.”

She gave me a tiny frown, but nodded. I kept talking. I needed to get the hell out of this room.

“I'll grab some volunteers from the adventuring contingent here in town. We should be able to explore that wreckage quickly enough – it isn't going anywhere after all – but, just in case we encounter something,” I waved my hand vaguely, “lake cobras of unusual size, or whatever – how about you only send someone after me if I'm not back by midnight tonight?”

_That should be swift enough to suit Ishgard's needs, and my temper._

I turned towards the door, but before I could take a step, I felt a hand on my arm.

I looked over at Minfilia. She squeezed my arm gently. “Our Doman allies have been keeping watch,” she told me. “Check in with them, before you investigate the wreckage yourself.” He voice lowered. “And be careful, Berylla. I don't know what's agitating you, but don't let your temper get in the way of your good sense.”

“I'm always careful,” I said lightly, refusing to meet her eyes. “See you in a bit.”

The watchman at the lake scratched his head. “It's like you people know,” he muttered. “I was just about to send a message for one of you Scions to come out here...” He shook his head. “Anyway – just today I've seen at least three Imperial airships comin' and goin'. Pieces are fallin' off that thing all the time, but I think the Imperials are tryin' to scrounge for parts.” He pointed to a flat bottomed row boat, pulled up on the rocks at the water's edge.

“They're like to fire on you if you try goin' in by air, so you can borrow my boat there. That should get you to the base of the wreck without bein' seen. By Imperials, anyway. Don't know what kind of lake critters might've moved in.”

“All right,” I nodded. “Thanks. We'll be back.”

A place between worlds, a place of stars. Six crystals, each twinkling with light and life.

A voice thundered through the vast emptiness.

_Hearken to me, Hydaelyn. I remember...and I_ _ **consent**_ _._

I turned, looking for the voice. Looking for the Mother.

But I was alone, and one by one, the lights around me flared, sputtered, and went out.

If I could have, I would have fallen to my knees and screamed.

The wind whistled through the wreckage as I staggered, coming back to my body. I set my hand on my chest, feeling hollow and cold. “What have you _done_?” My voice was hoarse.

_I have but stripped thee of thy mistress's feeble blessing. Thou didst profit much by Her grace. But no more_. The voice was pitiless.

Once more an orb of light blossomed high above me, and I stiffened my back against the sudden instinct to cringe away. But no ray of light burst forth this time. Instead, a tiny dragon materialized, and glided down to hover before me.

_The covenant binds me to thee. I shall watch...listen...and_ _ **wait**_. The little dragon's eyes narrowed. _Fight and struggle, if it be thy will. Man hath ever coveted that which lieth beyond his grasp_.

_The Dragonsong heraldeth a beginning...and an end_.

The glowing eyes above me faded, but the ruby ones that hovered before me remained. Then, with a swirl of blue magic, the little dragon vanished.

I stood there in silence, struggling to understand what had just happened, and why.

When I returned to the Rising Stones in deepening twilight, I had regained some small measure of my composure. Enough that when I passed Lucia, pacing the stones outside, I simply nodded to her and didn't start any trouble.

But Alphinaud was lying in wait for me inside the solar.

“Praise the Twelve!” He looked so relieved that for a moment I thought he might hug me. But he caught himself, glancing at Urianger and Minfilia and clearing his throat. “I came as soon as Minfilia informed me of Ser Aymeric's request. You've completed your investigation? I would hear you report.”

As I told them of what had transpired in the wreckage, I was glad Lucia had stayed outside. The truths I had learned were _not_ the sort she was going to be happy to hear, and I didn't want to be the one to tell her.

They all three listened with fascination, and when I was done, they were silent, thinking hard.

“You... _conversed_ with Midgardsormr?” Alphinaud spread his hands. “I swear, were anyone else to make such a claim...”

Minfilia's mind had stuck on a different aspect of my story. “The wyrm has merely lain dormant for fifteen years...?” she murmured.

Urianger said to her, “For one such as he, years pass as moments. Less a resurrection than a slow rejuvenation.”

Alphinaud bit his thumbnail gently. “Though his words were ambiguous at times, one statement left little room for interpretation. _My people have heard the song. Ishgard will burn._ Clearly an attack is imminent. We must share this information with Ser Aymeric immediately.” He held up a cautioning finger. “Not all of it, however. We dare not divulge your conversation with Midgardsormr in full. To even acknowledge that you heard his voice is a grave but necessary risk. For your own protection, and for the sake of our tenuous relations with Ishgard, the truth cannot leave this room.”

I nodded in full agreement, as did Minfilia and Urianger. _Though I'm lousy at lying_...

“As for how we shall present our revelation...” He put one hand on my arm. “You may leave that to me. Pray remain here for now.”

I smiled at him gratefully. He nodded, and strode out. Urianger followed him.

As the door closed, Minfilia regarded me, her brow creased.

“Is there something you're not telling us, Berylla?”

_A place of stars. Six shining beacons of light, snuffed out one by one._

“When Midgardsormr spoke to me,” I said slowly, “he also...did something. I don't know _how_ , but he – he took away my Blessing.”

“What?!” Minfilia's face went pale. She took my hand. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

I bit my lip. _I'm scared as hell and I have an invisible, miniature dragon following me around so he can judge my every action._

“...I'm okay.” I squeezed her hand, reassuringly. “I don't feel weak, or hurt, or anything. Just a little...under-dressed, you know?”

She smiled weakly at my feeble attempt to jest, and let me go. “It beggars belief that any being could possess the power to deprive you of Her blessing.” She paced a moment, thinking. “Well...if Midgardsormr is in truth watching over you, maybe you will have an opportunity to ask him.”

She cocked her head. “I think it's time to join Alphinaud,” she said, and headed for the door. I let her go first, and stood alone in the room for a moment, collecting myself.

A voice echoed in my head, and a tiny dragon materialized, flapping lazily about the room.

_Art thou a pawn, or master of thy fate? What hast thou wrought with thine own hands, mortal?_

I took a deep breath as the little dragon vanished again, and headed for the door.


	14. Memory

I stood on the peak, and stared out over the blasted landscape. Behind me, I heard the others speaking quietly, sharing memories of Moenbryda.

But all I could see was her face in that last moment. That sad, knowing smile.

I turned, and walked away from the edge.

Minfilia's face was streaked with tears as she looked at me. “Berylla?”

I paused. All of them looked at me, expectant, as if I would suddenly become eloquent, when I never had been before.

“She liked axes,” I mumbled. “And she was...really clever. A good friend.” I looked away from the other Scions. “I barely knew her. But I'm glad I got to meet her.”

They all nodded, and fell silent. _Thank the gods, because I don't know what else to say_.

I stood there, waiting, until at long last they began to turn and walk back down the hill.

It took an act of will for me not to rush past them all, to leap onto Joy's saddle and haul ass for the Toll. It took patience I didn't think I had to wait them all out, and not set out for Coerthas until they'd finally taken themselves to their beds.

Joy ran for me like she'd never run before. We leaped rocks and dodged trees, taking every short-cut, running under the moon.

I left her panting in front of the stable, and stumbled towards a door that I hoped would lead me to some form of peace.

I tapped twice, and waited. Tapped twice again, and heard a grumble, and steps.

Haurchefant opened the door, and stared at me in shock.

I staggered into his arms.

“Gods, Berylla, what _happened_?”

I couldn't speak. I'd been holding back for hours, and I couldn't stop crying now.

He held me, fumbling the door shut and somehow managing to get me over to the bed. I curled up beside him, and sobbed.

When I could, I told him what had happened, in bits and pieces, returning over and over to that last moment of Moenbryda's life.

“Why did she _smile_? How could she be happy at a moment like that?”

Haurchefant kissed my temple, and cradled me close. “Because that is the best moment to smile,” he told me softly.

“What?” I sniffed, looking up at him.

“She gave her life in service to a higher cause,” he explained. “There is no greater purpose than that. She was not a knight, but she had a knight's heart.”

“I wish...”

“No.” He put his finger to my lips. “Don't belittle her death by wishing it hadn't happened, my love. She chose freely, and she was glad of her choice. Be glad of her life, and let her death stand as the great deed it truly was.”

I bent my head, and let the tears come. Somehow, his words rang true, and soothed something inside of me. But...

“It still hurts,” I sniffled.

“I know.”

“Please...let me stay here, with you. Just for...a little longer.”

He tucked the blankets around us, and held me close, until I cried myself to sleep.

A bare day after I returned, Alphinaud arrived. “I heard...”

I waved him away, irritably. “That's not why you're here.”

“Unfortunately, no. The envoy from Ishgard is due to arrive at any moment.”

“Oh, gods.” I dropped my head into my hands. I didn't want to deal with the next crisis.

I wanted another week in Haurchefant's bed. Or just a week of being miles away from anything and anyone.

_I just want to stop hurting inside before I have to lose another friend. Is that too much to ask?_

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a dragon's voice whispered across a place of stars, a place now bereft of light. _What hast thou wrought with thine own hands, mortal?_

“She said in her message that she needs to speak first with the Antecedent, and then...with you. Personally.”

“You're just full of good news, aren't you?” I sighed. “I'm sorry, Alphinaud. You didn't deserve that.”

“You're not yourself right now.”

“Who else would I be?” I frowned. “No, I was wrong to snarl at you. I'm miserable, yes, but that gives me no right to hurt anyone else.”

“Berylla, it's all right. You're already forgiven.”

Tataru came up. “She's here.”

“Fabulous.” I got to my feet, feeling as if I were lifting some enormous weight.

Lucia walked in, and paused, surveying the room. Tataru went over to her, and told her, “The Antecedent will be ready for you in a few minutes, Lady Lucia.”

Lucia nodded, and Tataru went back to her desk.

I leaned against the bar, pretending to sip at a mug of tea, studying the lady-knight in the mirror. I saw her eyes flick toward me once or twice, but she simply stood where she was, in a stance of parade rest.

She'd made assumptions about me, and then yelled at me because of those assumptions. However, _she_ hadn't made a petty grudge out of it. That had all been me.

_Life is too short to hold a grudge._ I wrestled with myself, knowing what I needed to do.

_I'm probably about to be fighting beside her. I owe her an apology._ I finished my tea. _Stop being a child, Berylla, and go say what needs saying._

I turned away from the bar, and walked over to stand near the lady-knight.

“I ask only that you listen.” I spoke without looking directly at her. “A few weeks ago, you had some rather angry words for me. My response was...less than proper.”

She nodded, once.

“I would apologize for my own angry words,” I said. “I was not at my best, but I should not have met anger with anger. We should not be at odds with each other, most especially not now, when we will have to watch each other's backs.”

“I discovered, too late, that I had spoken in error. I, too, was wrong,” Lucia said quietly. “I accept your apology, and humbly beg that you accept mine.”

I met her eyes. “Done.”

Behind me, the solar door opened and Minfilia spoke. “Please, Lady Lucia, come inside.”

All around me, people were shouting in celebration. The dragons had been routed, the city of Ishgard had been defended, and her knights were naturally overjoyed.

Adventurers and knights alike were slapping backs and congratulating each other. The wounded still groaned on the ground, but healers moved steadily along the bridge, and already the shouts of jubilation were drowning out the sounds of pain. A small detail of particularly brawny knights was already attending to the corpses of fallen dragons by the simple expedient of hauling them to the nearest broken place in the bridge railings and shoving them over the side.

Lucia and Aymeric stood on a fallen piece of masonry, surveying the scene. Even from here I could see Aymeric counting the fallen. He remained stoic, but I knew how he felt about losing even a single knight. _Well, I feel the same way about losing any of my people, and they weren't even people I trained._

I leaned against one of the damaged towers, exhausted. The victory had not been easy, but it hadn't cost us as dearly as I had feared. I swiped a hand across my face, and grimaced as I realized that I was sticky with blood. I wasn't sure how much of it was mine. I couldn't feel any major injuries, but I knew that I wouldn't for a couple of hours yet.

I longed to go back to Dragonhead again. But I knew that I wasn't going to get the chance.

I looked up to see Aymeric striding towards me.

His words were formal – we were in front of dozens of knights and strangers, after all – but his eyes held far warmer sentiments. I kept myself quiet, nodding and smiling, and let Alphinaud chatter on, exuberant with success and relief. Aymeric seemed content with that.

As he strode away again to deal with the various details of mopping up, my smile faded.

_I'm so tired._

This _was_ a great victory, not just for Ishgard and not just for the Scions either. Alphinaud was right: Ishgard had to see the logic now in joining hands with the Alliance. It was time and past time that the Ishgardians rejoined the rest of Eorzea. But getting to this point had cost _so much more_ than I had ever wanted to pay. Aymeric had looked out over the battlefield and seen the bodies first, and the victorious survivors second. _He doesn't know the half of it._

Abruptly I had had enough – enough of fighting, enough of death. I shoved myself to a standing position, and walked slowly away, to find a wagon heading to the Toll.

“A banquet?” I blinked at Minfilia.

“Yes. To commemorate our great victory on the Steps of Faith.” Her mouth twisted, the first time I'd ever seen her make such a sour face. “No doubt the Alliance leaders will also wish to accept thanks for their 'contribution' to the effort.”

“Ishgard is sending a contingent?”

“Yes,” and her mood lightened a little. “Perhaps there will also be some tentative efforts to bring Ishgard into the Alliance in truth and not simply in name.” She sighed. “I don't really feel like celebrating, but it is our duty to be present.”

“ _All_ of us?”

She shot me a look. “If I can't get out of it, _you_ certainly can't, Berylla.”

I held my hands up. “Okay, okay.” Then I mumbled, loud enough for her to hear, “Being the Warrior of Light ought to have _some_ perks though.”

As I'd hoped, my sarcasm dispelled the last of her dark mood, and she laughed. I smiled.

“Well, to Uldah with us, then,” I said, and gave her an exaggerated courtly bow. “You first, Antecedent.”

I watched her leave the room, and sighed a little. _You always say the Scions are the beacon of hope for Eorzea, but I don't think you realize that you're the beacon for us. I don't know what we would do without you. I hope we never have to find out._

I couldn't get the taste of stone dust out of my mouth.

I was glad of the silence in the wagon. Alphinaud still had his hood up and his arms wrapped around himself; Marshal Turpin stood on the back of the wagon, keeping sharp watch.

I stopped trying to work up spit in my mouth, and just sat still. I ached all over, and not all of it was bruises from falling a dozen times as I'd run for my life.

Yda. Papalymo. Y'Shtola. Thancred. Minfilia.

_Gods, they're all gone_.

My eyes were dry. I couldn't feel a thing. The shock was too great. The pain hadn't arrived yet. I felt a tiny tremor in the corners of my soul at how bad it was going to be, when it did come.

A yell rang out, and my head snapped up, my hand going to my weapon.

But it was Cid, standing in the road and waving his arms at us.

Words were exchanged between Cid and the Marshal; Alphinaud responded in monosyllables, and I couldn't even manage that much. But in moments, we were jogging towards the Enterprise, and then we were in the air and headed north.

I still couldn't get the taste of stone dust out of my mouth.


	15. Fugitive

The intercessory was warm, as always. The fire crackled. The thick stone walls shielded us from sight, and noise, and cold. The door fit so tightly that the wind clawed at it fruitlessly, defeated, unable to reach inside. We were safe. For now.

Alphinaud stood still, staring around the room blankly. The wounded-animal look in his eyes made me want to scream, to go find the bastards responsible and...and... I forced myself to breathe, deep, slow breaths, and relaxed my fists.

I went over to him. “Alphinaud.”

He turned, and I took him in my arms, holding him firmly. He tried to push me away, but he had never been my physical equal. “What...?”

“Cry, damn you.”

“No, I'm fine...” His voice was rough, his teeth clenched tight.

“Don't you _dare_ lie to me you little white haired...” I forced the rage back, again. “Not to me, Alphinaud. Never. Don't lie to me.”

He shivered.

“Don't be an idiot. Don't believe it's weak to weep.” I began to shake too, the despair rising over me like a black wave. “You have to let it out.”

“I _am_ an idiot. A damn arrogant fool.” His voice was raw with self hatred. His arms were by his sides, his hands clenched tightly into fists. I felt like he might shatter into a thousand pieces from the pressure of his own feelings.

“You were confident. You were wrong. It wasn't your damn fault.”

“But look what it's cost us!”

“I know!” My voice was thick. I began to cry. “I was _with_ them, Alphinaud! I was there! I couldn't s-save them!” Hot tears fell from my eyes onto his narrow shoulder, soaking the blue fabric.

He sucked in a breath, and seemed to shake himself, as if startled by my tears. “B-Berylla...?”

“I should have stayed,” I hissed. “I could have bought them time. It should have been me, not Thancred. Not Y'Shtola. Not _Minfilia_...”

_I'm the one that's supposed to die. Not my friends. Not my family. Damn Lolorito to the seventh hell._

“It should have been me,” I repeated.

Tentative hands touched my back as Alphinaud returned my embrace. He began to tremble. “You should blame me,” he began, and then broke. He buried his face in my shoulder, and I held him close, stroking his back, taking comfort even as I gave it.

The door opened, silently; I was facing it. Alphinaud's tears continued and I didn't do a thing to stop him. Haurchefant stood in the door, eyes wide at the sight of us. I met his eyes, ignoring the tears on my face, and spoke, to Alphinaud mostly, but for Haurchefant too.

“I don't blame you, Alphinaud.” I said, my voice rough, broken. “You can't be held responsible for Ilberd and his decisions. That snake will pay for his crimes, but you...not _you_ , you shouldn't have to pay for what he did. We've already suffered from what he did, any blame we could possibly have claimed, we've already been punished for and then some.” I sniffed. “And our friends paid.”

Alphinaud's tears worsened and his arms tightened around me.

“I could have saved them, all of them. I shouldn't have run away. I should have told them to run, let them get away. I should have died in those damned tunnels. What kind of a damn hero am I, Alphinaud? What kind of friend runs away like that? Only the most worthless sort of _coward_...”

I broke down, clutching my friend, my brother in arms. Both of us shook and wept.

Haurchefant closed the door, his own cheeks wet, and left us alone.

Night had fallen. Alphinaud was rolled up in the pallet brought for him, and Tataru had long since nodded off in hers.

“It's only for now,” Haurchefant had assured us. “But putting you here means no one can come asking for you. This room doesn't exist as far as the men are concerned. It's the safest place I can think of for you three, until I can get word back from my father.”

So, the pallets had been brought, and a little food. Alphinaud had picked at the food, but he'd drunk heavily of the ale. When he'd nearly fallen asleep in his chair, Haurchefant had winked at me and then helped me get Alphinaud to bed. “You dosed him, didn't you?” I asked now, listening to the faint snores from the two of them.

“Yes.” Haurchefant sipped his own ale. “I trust you're not upset with me.”

“No. He needed to rest.” I sighed, and rubbed my eyes gingerly. They were still raw from weeping.

“Will you be all right?”

I dropped my hand and smiled weakly. “I will. I just...” I blew out a breath. “It's painful.”

“You meant for me to hear that, earlier, didn't you.”

“Yes.” I got up, and came over to him, edging in close, putting my arms around his neck. “Not to convince you to help us. I knew you'd offer that. But I didn't want...” I swallowed. “I don't think I could say all that twice. And I still need...some comfort. If that's okay.”

He put his arm around me and nudged me with his leg. I sat in his lap, and lay my head on his shoulder.

“I've written to my father,” he said quietly. “I should hear from him in a day, not more than two.” There was a hitch in his voice, and I shifted to look at his face.

“Is there trouble between the two of you?”

“No, no,” he reassured me. “The furthest thing from that. It's simply...” His mouth twisted. “Suffice it to say, I do not visit home often, but only because society is full of idiots.”

I nodded. I did know that Haurchefant was an illegitimate son, and that his father had raised him alongside his true-born sons. The knights of Dragonhead seemed unable to decide if they were shocked or impressed by this fact. _Idiots indeed. The deeds make the man, not the circumstances of his birth._

“Perhaps I'm a terrible man for this, but I was hoping that you and I might...pass the time again. Before that letter comes.”

“Oh?” I rubbed my face against his shoulder, blushing a little, remembering how I'd bitten this gambeson once, in this very room. “Not that I object, but what's your hurry?”

“I've asked my father to take the three of you in as wards of our House.”

I sat up a bit, and looked at him. “You mean...you mean to _adopt_ us?”

He rocked his hand back and forth, making a face. “It's similar, though not quite the same. You'd not inherit anything, for instance.”

I snorted a little, waving away that consideration, and he chuckled.

“The main point is that you would have our protection, both against outsiders and from any...internal trouble. And you'd have the right to enter Ishgard itself, which would put you all well beyond the reach of any sort of trouble your enemies can muster.” His eyes crinkled a little, in a self-deprecating smile. “The single drawback being that it's quite frowned on to sleep with one's sister, even adopted.”

I blinked at him, and wiped away a hint of wetness from my eye. “You...gods, Haurchefant.” I kissed him. “How can you be single, you miracle of a man.”

It was his turn to snort, and wave his hand. “Because I _want_ to be. There are too many friends to love, and not enough time.”

I laughed, then covered my mouth, glancing at the two sleepers on the other side of the room. “I can just imagine,” I managed, almost choking as I tried to contain my giggles.

He grinned at me, well pleased. Then he captured my hand, kissing the back of it.

“Would my lady care to accompany me to bed?”

I smiled. “I would.”

His room was just the same as always – small, but warm, and nothing else mattered.

The sex was rough and fast. I practically attacked him, but he gave as good as he got. After, we were both gasping, sprawled across the bed in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing.

Moving slowly, we managed to get undressed completely, and he held me close, while we watched the fire and caught our breath.

“I think you will like Ishgard,” he said thoughtfully. He was playing with my hair, absently, and I was idly making spiraling little patterns across his chest with my finger.

“Oh?”

“It's cold, of course.” He chuckled.

I laughed too, softly, and laid my hand flat against his belly, listening and feeling how his voice vibrated through his body.

“But the stonework is really quite breathtaking,” he continued. “Nothing like here. The Vigils and fortresses are no-nonsense, no frills, exactly as much as is needed to survive a storm or an attack, and not a single stone more. The city...” His breath ruffled my hair as he sighed. “They say the city was built before the war, when Ishgard was at her very height. A golden age, or so the legends say. But even scarred by a thousand years of war, she is still very beautiful.”

I smiled at the fondness in his words. _He really loves his home_.

“Sometimes I wonder about those lords of so long ago...what they were thinking when the war started. Did any of them grieve, I wonder, for the things they'd built, that were shattered into dust under the fangs and fires of dragons?”

“Surely some few of them did,” I murmured.

“So few men build.” He laughed a little. “Coming from me, that likely sounds ridiculous. My profession hardly involves much construction.”

“Your profession involves killing,” I said, “but your heart is called to defend. To love,” and I chuckled just a little. “And sometimes to defend that which we love requires us to fight. Or to die.”

“A price I would pay gladly, when the time comes.”

I looked up at his face. He was staring into the fire, and I'd never seen him look so sad. My breath caught a little.

“One day,” he whispered, “it will come to that. I know it will. There can be no other fate for me. I can only hope that I will die protecting someone I love, even one of my brothers, and not for some damn stupid patrol.”

I swallowed hard. Then, I leaned over, and kissed his cheek.

He blinked a little, and turned his attention to me. “A depressing turn of conversation. I'm sorry.”

“No.” I kissed him again. “It's a beautiful sentiment. You'll forgive me though,” and I winked, “if I hope that day comes a long, long time from now, when you're old and nearly ready to retire anyway.”

He half smiled. “A kind thought, that.”

“I have another, much less noble thought in mind now, though.” I made my face mock-serious.

“Do you so?” His smile was lazy as my hand drifted down to cradle him. His body responded instantly for me.

“Positively sinful,” I nodded. “I might even need to be punished.”

He laughed, and turned to me, his hands busy even as mine were.

Only a day later, all was ready for us to travel to Ishgard. Haurchefant brought Alphinaud a long coat, and gave it to him. “It was mine, once, when I was your age,” he told the young scholar lightly, “I hope you don't mind inheriting from me as it were.”

Alphinaud shrugged. “I've no reason to object.”

The coat was a little too big for Alphinaud's narrow shoulders, but he only smiled. “More coat means less of me feels the wind.”

Haurchefant went ahead of us. “Take your time packing. I must go and speak with the count my father, but everything should be prepared for your arrival.” His smile was so eager, so excited, that even Alphinaud's somber mood lightened a little more. “Our manservant should be waiting for you when you pass through the gates.” 

We made our way to the Steps of Faith, and I marveled at how quickly most of the marks of battle had been removed. Oh, there was still plenty of broken masonry and places where repairs were under way, but that was all. Only crisp snow coated the stones; not a spot of blood of a speck of soot remained.

The wind screamed across the exposed span, and far below, clouds surged and whirled, like a restless sea. I was reminded that the folk of Whitebrim had called that yawning chasm the Sea of Clouds. We presented ourselves to the last guard; just as Haurchefant had said, he waved us through. 

Cleared to pass, we started walking. I was reminded again of how incredible a piece of architecture this bridge was – fully wide enough for dragons to pace its length, balanced on footings that seemed like they were a mile high - even in its state of disrepair and age, it was awe-inspiring. _How had mere mortals ever built on such a massive scale?_

“I feel like a child in a giant's castle,” Tataru said as we approached the enormous gates of the city proper. I could see knights patrolling the wall above the gate, but they seemed like toy soldiers by comparison to the gargantuan structure around them.

Even _I_ felt tiny against the majesty of those walls.

A door opened to one side of the mighty gate, and a knight beckoned us through.

We passed out of the wind and into a corridor that seemed dim and narrow compared to the sweeping open space of the bridge. The knight ushered us through, silently, and opened a second door, letting us out into the daylight once more.

“Magnificent,” Alphinaud breathed, and I could only nod in agreement.

Spires soared into the sky as if they would hold up the very heavens. Along some of them were delicate ornaments that looked almost like lace from this far away.

Even the ground was ornamented, with stone tiles of varied colors making an elegant pattern out of the road surface. Many flower-beds lined the street, and tall, elaborately carved street lamps. I could hear water flowing not far away, as of a large fountain. Even more plantings were placed in wooden half-barrels, these ones in slightly less mathematically perfect placements. Every bed and barrel held evergreens, but even without flowers, they made for a welcome sign of life against all the stone.

A tall, older Elezen, wearing a very elegant but soberly cut suit, stepped up to us and bowed deeply. “Mistress Berylla, Master Alphinaud, Mistress Tataru. Allow me to be the first to welcome you all to Ishgard. Please, follow me, and I shall escort you directly to Fortemps Manor.”

We exchanged glances, and Alphinaud took the lead. He bowed slightly, and told the man, “We would be delighted.”

Meeting Count Edmont de Fortemps was far more pleasant than I had expected. Haurchefant was anything but formal, and I had gotten the idea somehow that the Count would be absolutely stiff with it.

Instead, the Count conversed with us with more warmth even than Ser Aymeric had done. He wasn't quite so informal as Haurchefant, but somehow his manner seemed very natural to him – as natural as Haurchefant's friendliness. His true-born sons – so alike in looks I struggled to keep their names straight – were nearly stone by comparison.

He suggested that we tour the city, and we agreed. But even as we walked along the streets, only half my mind was on the sights and the conversation between Alphinaud and the House manservant.

_Haurchefant didn't get his coloring from his father, but I can see where he learned charm and good manners. But how could he have learned to be so loving, when this was his home? These people are all so damn reserved. There's ice in their faces. Are their hearts as cold as their manners?_

I took in the sweeping view from the Hoplon, and could only wonder to myself whether Haurchefant had had a happy childhood, growing up in such surroundings. And his brothers...

_They're as handsome as their father, but they're like shadows next to Haurchefant. Do they resent him? Hate him? I know he loves them. Do they understand what a treasure he really is?_

I knew it was none of my business. But after last night, Haurchefant was on my mind a lot more than usual. Even knowing – or maybe especially because of it – that I wouldn't be able to hide in his bed for an evening again.

He had let me need him, even though I knew he didn't really want a committed relationship. I wished for a moment that his father had dragged his feet just a little in adopting us. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle the next few days and weeks without Haurchefant's comfort.

I shook myself back to the present as a roughly-dressed fellow tried to heckle Alphinaud. _I'll cope. Ice and all, this is home now. I'm not completely alone here, after all. Alphinaud needs me to be strong_. I nodded firmly, and fortunately my nod coincided with something I'd just been asked.


	16. Brothers

As we began to walk again, I wondered where we were going. I'd vaguely heard something about a knight, but I really hadn't been paying proper attention...

“This is the Forgotten Knight,” our guide said, his tone a little stiff.

I took a look, and gave a little smile. _A tavern. No wonder the manservant disapproves_.

We went inside, and the first thing I noticed was the lovely scent of good food. The floors were spotless, and though the wood was old, it had been lovingly cared for. The steps creaked a little, but somehow managed to sound friendly. The main floor boasted an enormous fire, and at least three more heating devices in various spots; the room was comfortably warm despite being approximately the size of a barn.

An L shaped bar stood in one corner; another set of descending stairs took up the opposite corner, and I could hear the sounds of merry-making wafting up from below.

Behind the bar stood a tall Elezen fellow with bronze hair, done up in a high ponytail. His light-green eyes danced as he looked us up and down, with a small, but friendly, smile. On the back wall stood a truly impressive collection of bottles of many shapes and colors. Under the stairs we had just descended, barrels were stacked. _A well stocked establishment. I like it_.

Half a dozen tables were placed around the room, and each had a patron or two, enjoying bowls of stew and whatever drink they'd chosen.

I noticed with interest that several of them had brown glass bottles, of a design I'd seen once before...

The barkeep spoke up. “Must say, this is rather unusual. Not just one, but a whole party of fresh new faces in my tavern.”

Alphinaud didn't even hesitate. His smile was warm as he stepped up to the counter. “We but recently arrived in Ishgard and are eager to acquaint ourselves with her more notable establishments, Master...?”

“Gibrillont – just Gibrillont.” The barkeep smiled wider. “I'm flattered you think so highly of my establishment. Can't promise it'll live up to your expectations, but if it's decent food and drink you're after, you could do much worse.”

“Judging by the number of customers I see, I suspect your fare is rather more than decent. Speaking of your clientele...I could not help but note a difference between those who frequent the upper and lower floors...” Alphinaud's voice was gently questioning, with no hint of pushiness.

_When did he see anything of the lower floors?_ I shook my head minutely. _I really must have had my head in the clouds earlier._

Gibrillont raised one eyebrow, but answered in an easy tone. “Spotted that, did you? Aye, up here you'll find peddlers, porters, off-duty knights, and so forth, dropping in on their way to or from somewhere else. Regulars maybe, but not locals.” He nodded to the stairs leading below. “Folks from the Brume, they tend to congregate downstairs, where we offer a menu more suited to their tastes. Cheaper meals, stronger spirits─all quality, mind, but not the sort of stuff I'd recommend to yourselves.”

Alphinaud cocked his head. “You speak of the lowest levels, yes? Why do they call them the Brume, if I may ask?”

Gibrillont's laugh was less than humorous. “'Cause when the weather's foul and the fog rolls in thick, it's the poor sods living at the bottom who have to deal with it.” He shook his head a little, and swept his gaze over all three of us.

“...And it's not just the weather. When the wyverns broke through the wards and started tearing up the city, it was the Brume that got the worst of it, while the Pillars enjoyed the protection of the High Houses and the Temple Knights.”

He lifted one finger in a cautioning gesture. “More'n a few people are still sore about that, mind, which is why, considering your present company, I'd recommend you keep your wits about you if you mean to go below─and something sharp in your boot, just to be sure.”

The House Fortemps manservant looked miffed, but Tataru and I exchanged glances and nods. Alphinaud didn't even look at us, merely nodded as if this information was common sense. “I shall take your words to heart, sir.”

_In a way, I guess it is common sense. Good to know this place isn't all lacy stonework and cold-faced nobles. Almost makes it seem homier. Like Limsa_...

Tataru dug in her pouch, and stepped up to the counter. Stretching a little, she laid three coins in front of Gibrillont. “I trust your judgment,” she twinkled up at him, “I'd like a drink or two.”

She waved her fingers at us, a shooing motion. “You go on ahead without me. I'm staying right here for a bit!”

The manservant was appalled. “M-Miss Tataru...I am afraid that is out of the question! My lord the count would never forgive me if I abandoned one of his charges in such a place─least of all a _maiden!_ ”

Knowing that Tataru was the furthest thing from a fainting maiden, I started to laugh, and had to put my hand over my mouth.

Alphinaud's smile was a little strained. “What are you up to, Tataru?”

Tataru tapped her foot, and _tsked_ at him. “Look around, Alphinaud─this tavern is full of people whose business regularly takes them beyond the Gates of Judgment. With friends like _that_ , I could practically live here and wait for the newest gossip to come to me.”

He tilted his head, considering her point. “Indeed. But will you be safe here, on your own?”

Tataru saw me trying not to guffaw, and grinned. “Do you know how often I looked after the Waking Sands and the Rising Stones by myself? If I had a coin for every unwelcome caller I've driven away, I'd be rich beyond my wildest dreams! I'll be _fine_!”

Gibrillont chimed in, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Not that I doubt the lady's knack for fending off unwanted advances, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone lay an unwelcome hand on a patron in my establishment.”

I managed to get myself under control, and nodded. It really was a brilliant idea; Tataru was naturally friendly and attracted confidences like flowers attracted bees. Already the deep sorrow that had weighed her down was melting away in the face of something concrete that she knew she could do. I was almost jealous of how swiftly she'd found a way to land on her feet.

“That settles it, then.” Alphinaud patted her shoulder. “Berylla and I shall return to the manor for now. Contact me by link-pearl if you require assistance.”

She took the mug that Gibrillont handed her, and gave us a sunny smile. “I will! Don't you worry – if there's any news of our friends, I'll find it!”

It wasn't until we were more than half way back to the manor that I realized what Tataru had meant.

She and Alphinaud both didn't believe the others were dead.

_Could_ they be...? The shaft of sudden hope stung like acid in a wound. I forced myself to breathe. I'd seen the tunnels collapsing – but I hadn't actually seen anyone fall. They could be alive! Captured, injured, but not _dead_...!

Part of me wanted to race south, right now, and storm the city. _If they're alive...!_

But I knew better. To show my face in Uldah right now would likely mean my death, and while I was fine with dying for a good reason, dying for a stupid mistake was a different matter.

I'd been so wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself, and believing that there was no saving any of them... _Damn, I'm so good at being foolish, you'd think it was my calling_.

I got myself under control again. _Let Tataru and Alphinaud take care of it. They're good at this, and they never doubted for a moment that something could be done. Find work, find things to keep busy, and stay out of their way. When they need you to kill something, they'll come get you_.

_But gods, I hope they find something out soon_.

We arrived at the manor at nearly the same moment as the younger son. I recalled his name – Emmanellain – just as he sniffed in my direction. “Newly come, and already sampling the delights of our taverns?” He grinned, an obvious copy of Haurchefant's cheerful smile. “Oh yes, I _like_ you. I like you a _lot_.”

“We were merely visiting briefly,” Alphinaud said mildly. “We hope to be able to offer the Count some manner of aid, if he will allow it.”

As it happened, Count Edmont had work for us already in mind, the moment we offered. He asked me to assist his two sons in their duties.

Artoirel, the elder, scowled. “I beg your pardon?! I am more than capable of carrying out my duty by myself. I have no need of our honored _guest's_ assistance!”

Emmanellain merely smirked a little and made an off-handed comment about my acting as an errand girl. I raised my eyebrow at the boy.

_And he is just a boy. He may be older than Alphinaud – but he's far less mature. Aping mannerisms and chasing girls, like a teenager._

I glanced at his older brother, and hid a sigh. _At least the younger one has visible feelings. Working with Artoirel is going to be like standing beside an ice statue._

Edmont rounded on his sons and scolded them, and they bridled, but apologized with commendable humility. I nodded, and gestured to the two of them to move off to the side of the room, so that the Count could discuss tasks with Alphinaud.

“The trouble is,” Emmanellain pointed out, “I have to visit Camp Cloudtop, and my dear brother here has to go freeze his balls – ah, he has to go to Falcon's Rest. Completely opposite directions of travel, you see?”

“I do see. So then, which of you is first?”

“Oh, the eldest should surely take precedence,” Emmanellain said, too smoothly. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and instead looked to Artoirel.

“Does that suit you, my lord?”

His nod was curt, but his tone was polite enough. “It does. I have already contracted for transport from the city's stables.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I need to get airship tickets. Honoroit! We're going.”

Behind him, the young page boy looked mildly miffed, but then saw me looking, and gave an embarrassed smile. I had the notion that young Honoroit had in fact obtained the tickets. There was an air of quiet competence about the young man, a steadiness that stood in stark contrast to his master's...energy.

“Well, best to be off then,” I said, and watched as Emmanellain practically skipped out the door.

Artoirel tried to hide a sigh, and then led the way.

Falcon's Rest was the coldest place I'd ever visited. Ice covered the stones, and walking with slow dignity was the only way to walk at all. “Does it _ever_ stop snowing?” I asked.

Artoirel shrugged. “I don't know. I only come here once every few months.”

As we approached the man in charge of the settlement, I noticed that all the regular soldiers were striding about with relative ease – and then saw that _they_ all had spikes on their boots.

“Ah, Lord Artoirel, you've arrived! And who is this?”

Introductions were made, and I gave the usual polite smile. Of course they'd heard of me. By now every family in Ishgard had probably heard some exaggerated tale about the battle on the Steps of Faith. I wondered when someone would try to write up another ridiculous ballad about my standing toe to toe in single combat with a gigantic dragon. _Fame is stupid_.

Some more or less run-of-the-mill errands were the first tasks. I didn't mind – it gave me a chance to get the lay of the land, and a feel for some of the people. I was immensely relieved to find that most of the soldiers, at least, were friendly enough, and practical-minded folks as well. No hero worship there – just honest appreciation of another hand to help with tasks made all the more difficult by ice and snow and constant harassment by the local wildlife. Even the deer were mean!

But when I returned from those small jobs, Artoirel was no more cheerful than he had been. He sat beside me on a bench in the mess hall, ate his food without speaking, and left with the barest of farewells. I shrugged, and drank down another mug of the excellent beer, before taking myself to the bunk-room reserved for the women in the garrison.

In the morning, however, there was real trouble to deal with. Artoirel waved me over the moment I came out from the barracks. “A missing patrol,” Captain Redwald told me, and Artoirel nodded.

“So we need to find them, and...?”

“If you can, catch the heretics that surely gave them trouble – we've been looking for their base for some time.”

“Right.” I turned to Artoirel. “Please, lead the way, my lord.”

_Footprints in the snow_. The injured knight knelt, holding his wounded arm, and Artoirel stood over him protectively. “Follow them if you can, and I'll gather reinforcements. Just try to leave me clear footprints.”

I nodded and started to turn.

“Berylla.”

I looked at him; this was the first time he'd used my name.

“This is putting a great deal of risk on your shoulders, but I see no alternative.”

I gave him a half smile. “Risk is practically my middle name,” I said lightly. “I don't flinch from it. Take care of him. I'll see you when I see you.”

I loped off, following the footprints.

I came up out of the cellar, and stepped out into the light. The snow was falling thicker than ever, but I saw figures approaching and heard a voice I knew.

Artoirel came up to me, and stared around at the carnage. “You found them!”

“That I did.” I stretched a little, slightly sore.

“You've earned a rest by a warm fire,” he began, but I waved my hand.

“Report first. Warming up second.”

As we made our way back to Falcon's Nest, he apologized to me. I nodded, and accepted his words at face value. He was a cheerless man, but he was honest. Determined to do his duty to the very best of his ability. 

But it was after we had made our report, as we sat over mugs of mulled cider, that Artoirel really surprised me.

“Mistress Berylla...” he began, and I held up a hand.

“Please. Just Berylla. I've never been one for formalities, and I'm tired.”

“Berylla.” He stared into his mug. “I would speak plain. From the first, I questioned your motives and your competence─unjustly, I now realize.” He glanced up at me, and gave a little shrug. “Rumors have a way of growing more fantastic as they spread, and quite frankly, those surrounding _you_ beggar belief. But Haurchefant swore that all the stories were true. He championed your cause and begged Father to grant you patronage.” Artoirel's mouth twisted a little. “And he duly listened, because for all his wisdom, he has never been able to say no to my dear half-brother─the legacy of my father's sole indiscretion.”

I met his gaze without flinching. “Yes. I'm aware of Haurchefant's...circumstances, in that way.”

Artoirel looked away. “Mother hated him, of course. Even on her deathbed, she refused to acknowledge him. And...to be honest, she was not alone in her feelings. But that is not the worst of it.” He drank deeply, looking troubled. “At Camp Riversmeet, when we came upon the wounded knight, I knew immediately that one of us would have to pursue the heretics alone. An onerous task, fraught with danger.” He looked at me, and I saw the echo of the bitter thoughts he was recalling. “And there you were─the savior of Eorzea and honored guest of House Fortemps. My new comrade-in-arms. Haurchefant's dear friend.”

It was my turn to look away for a moment, and take a big swallow of cider. So Artoirel is well aware of Haurchefant's notion of friendship, and doesn't approve.

“I told myself it was to be a test, but part of me...part of me hoped that you would fail.” Artoirel swallowed the last of his cider. “Yet you accepted the task without a word of protest, nor any sign of fear. And you duly tracked the enemy down, faced him alone, and lived to tell the tale.” The mug clanked as Artoirel set it down. “Plainly, Haurchefant had the right of it all along. That I doubted your strength bespeaks mine own weakness. But I will not doubt you again, Berylla, on that you have my word.”

I nodded. “I appreciate your honesty, and your confidence in me. I don't blame you for wanting some sort of – proof that I was worthy of respect. I am glad to have given you such.”

I didn't give two hoots and a holler what Artoirel thought of me, personally – his respect wasn't really necessary. Nice, but not necessary. I couldn't help but resent what he'd admitted, though. _He hates Haurchefant._

I choked down my urge to poke into matters that were very much not mine to meddle in.


	17. Head in the Clouds

Back at Ishgard, I barely had time to eat a meal before Emmanellain was nearly dragging me out the door. As we left the manor, I saw a girl in a mauve gown hurrying towards the gate-guard. “Quick, before she sees me!” Emmanellain muttered, and grabbed my elbow to hustle me along.

But once we were on the airship, he was once more the languid court gossip. He told me far more than I wanted to know about how he'd met and hired Honoroit, and then started in on a discussion of the social whirl. Thankfully he noticed quickly that I had zero interest in such matters. But his change in topic gave me pause.

“You must know my half-brother well, yes? You have fought beside him?”

“And with him,” I nodded, remembering an evening of sparring.

“He's great, isn't he?”

I regarded the boy with surprise, and could only nod. But that was all I needed to do. Emmanellain launched into a monologue about Haurchefant that was more than half hero-worship.

_This kid sure likes the sound of his own voice._

The flight to Camp Cloudtop was not short enough, and I was more than glad to be able to start asking questions about our surroundings, just to guide the flow of words a little.

This was the _true_ Sea of Clouds; islands literally floated in the air, and birds that flew about looked almost as if they were swimming. The flora was as confounding as the land it grew on – huge flowers and strange structures, like hollow orbs with holes in them, sporting mushrooms and moss. And everything seemed capable of flight – or at least floating.

Emmanellain seemed tickled at my mystified expression, when a fish _flapped_ past my eyes, and was more than pleased to show off his knowledge, limited as it was.

As soon as our feet left the deck of the airship, though, he was back to gossiping. “The only duties here are easy ones, so no one ever likes being assigned here,” he chattered, “but I don't mind.”

We walked down a set of wooden ramps that would give screaming nightmares to anyone afraid of heights. I blessed the fact that I was not cursed with such a fear.

But when we approached the place Emmanellain had called the “Rose House,” I saw the real reason the boy was so excited to be here.

The lady-knight that greeted us had gloriously red hair, and cheekbones that reminded me of someone. But not until Emmanellain had introduced her as “the lovely Laniaitte” did I figure out that he was enamored of her.

She managed to shuffle him off on sentry duty, and sighed.

“You're related to Francel?” I asked.

“Yes, I'm his older sister. And though I'm sure you've heard it before, I want to thank you for saving his life. He's the youngest of us...”

“How many siblings are there?” I couldn't hide my curiosity. Big families were always interesting to me.

“Six of us,” she laughed a little. “And every one a red-head. Haurchefant always – oh dear.”

I laughed out loud. “Don't worry. I know exactly what you mean.” I tugged on my own hair, and she grinned, but her cheeks were pink. I laughed once more, quietly, shaking my head. _Gods above, Haurchefant, where_ _ **haven't**_ _you been?_

“I just wish his brother was less...less...”

“Less of a feather-headed fool?” I supplied helpfully.

Laniaitte grimaced. “He means well. He's a nice boy. He's just not...”

“Mature?”

“You see with unclouded eyes, my lady. I don't want to be too cruel. He and I grew up together, you see, and...well, I suppose he sees it as romantic.” She shook her head. “Out in the field is no place for romance. And yet if I let him get hurt...”

“Oh yes. I know that dilemma. We'll figure it out. Now, what sort of _real_ work needs to be done?”

_Culling wildlife, waking sentries, and now chasing crystals. What a fun place this is_.

I walked back to Honoroit with the required crystal in my hands. I was soaking wet from the knees down and the wind was not drying me off, just chilling me. I was annoyed with Emmanellain and wondering if I could get away with taking him off for “a training session” and beating the snot out of him.

But all that faded from my mind as I saw the worry in Honoroit's eyes. “You didn't happen to see Lord Emmanellain as you were coming here, did you...?”

 _Oh, shit. The fool's gotten himself in trouble. Or lost_.

“Let's look for him.”

But he was nowhere to be found among the shallow pools. There wasn't much in the way of landmarks, but there also wasn't any cover or any such. I met up with Honoroit, and I knew at once that something was really, truly wrong.

The page was nearly in tears. “The Vanu have him! We have to get help! But...but...by the time we return...!”

I set my hands on his shoulders. “Honoroit. Calm down, boy. There are two of us. One goes for help, one stays here.”

“Oh,” and he sucked in a breath. “Oh, could you?! I know he can be a trifle presumptuous...and insensitive...and, well...insufferable─but he doesn't deserve this!”

“This is what I _do_ , Honoroit. It's all right. Run back as fast as you can without putting yourself in danger. He's going to be all right. I swear it.”

 _This, I can handle. A kid like Honoroit in tears, not so much_.

He gave me a look of pure worship before sprinting off. I watched him just long enough to admire how fast the kid could run, and then I turned and stalked off toward the Vanu village.

“The White! The White! The Mighty Bismarck!”

“A _flying whale?!_ ” Haurchefant sounded just as amazed – and incredulous – as I felt.

We exchanged glances. Behind me I heard Emmanellain start running. _For once, the kid has the right idea_.

But the Vanu had us surrounded. We bunched up, backs to the edge of the island.

“Damn!” Haurchefant scowled at our foes.

I cocked my head, and then turned. _That sound...an airship?!_

I couldn't contain my cry of astonishment when I saw the familiar prow heading our way.

The Enterprise swept close and hovered. “All aboard!” Cid shouted.

Emmanellain didn't have to be told twice. He scurried up the ramp like a rabbit.

I leaped up onto the airship's deck, and spun to see Haurchefant give a mocking salute to the Vanu before vaulting up onto the Enterprise just as she pulled away.

Wedge cheered, and Haurchefant gave him a cocky thumbs up.

“Everyone hang on!” Cid roared, even as we heard the same eerie singing from below.

The white creature came soaring up out of the clouds, and Cid yanked the controls. The Enterprise yawed hard, and everyone grunted with effort as we clutched whatever we could reach. The deck tilted and my stomach plummeted. The maw of the whale opened and I realized with a stab of panic that it really could swallow the whole ship in one go.

But the Enterprise slipped by with mere inches to spare. I could smell the whale's breath, we were _so_ close – a weird stench, a mixture of lightning and iron and wet earth.

With a wail of frustration, the massive creature fell back into the clouds, and the Enterprise righted as Cid eased the controls back to level flight.

The only person on board who _wasn't_ pale as death was Haurchefant, who let out a wild whoop of laughter.

We returned to Camp Cloudtop, and Cid bid us a fond farewell. “I'm here on business, and the boys are already hard at work,” he said apologetically. I waved to him, and let him go.

Then I turned to Haurchefant, who was still grinning hugely as he'd been doing since our narrow escape.

But before I could say a word, Emmanellain decided it was time to hold forth.

“That was... that was an incredibly _harrowing_ experience. I could very well have died, you know! Me! Dead!” He seemed almost confused by the concept. Then, he brightened. “On the other hand, by risking life and limb in the line of duty, I did succeed in uncovering the existence of a new primal. And that, old girl, is no small feat!”

I glowered at him, but he seemed not to notice, delighted with this new narrative he was creating for himself. “I have made an _historic_ discovery─a fact even Lady Laniaitte will have no choice but to acknowledge!”

He preened – actually _preened_ , tucking his hair back behind his ears. “I am rather looking forward to basking in the sunshine of her praise. Speaking of which─isn't it time we made our triumphant return?”

He headed off down the path to the Rose House with a spring in his step. Honoroit lingered a moment, and looked up at me. “Thank you, Mistress Berylla. _Thank you!_ ” He hurried after his master, leaving me standing there, hands itching to smack the young lord's face.

Haurchefant's voice was amused as he spoke, standing at my shoulder. “Even after everything he has been through, he manages to remain so...optimistic.”

“Your brother is an idiot.”

“Yes, but he's an adorable idiot, is he not?” Haurchefant nudged me with his elbow. “And he is your brother as well, now, don't forget.”

I rolled my eyes, and Haurchefant laughed. “Come. Let us make our report here. Then we will have to do the same in Ishgard.”

We started walking down the long, winding wooden ramps.

“I confess, I have always been rather fond of airship travel,” Haurchefant told me. “The chill of the wind upon your face, the warmth of the blood pumping in your veins from the excitement...! I find the whole experience indescribably invigorating!” He laughed. “Or perhaps it is simply the joy of having cheated death yet again!”

“I could have kissed you when you showed up. Would have, if I hadn't been a bit busy at the time.”

“Now whatever would Emmanellain have thought of that?”

“Why the fuck should I care?” I scowled. “Besides, he isn't looking right now, anyway.”

I stopped, and put my arms around Haurchefant's neck. He was laughing as I pulled him in.

The kiss was warm, and tender, but... I pulled back a little.

Haurchefant's arms around my waist were gentle, but there was something sad about the way he touched me.

“Haurchefant...?”

He kissed me lightly, and shook his head a little.

I let him go, reluctantly. “I just want...”

“I know.” He took my hand, and kissed the back of it. “But no.”

We walked side by side. I crossed my arms, to keep myself from trying to touch him. _He as much as told you it would be this way_ , I scolded myself. _Don't make it harder than it has to be._

“Did you also work with my other, less ebullient brother?” he asked.

“Yes.” I couldn't stop myself. “Why does he hate you?”

“Hm?” Haurchefant looked over at me, eyebrows raised. “Artoirel? He doesn't hate me. Or rather,” he gave a little laugh, “he doesn't hate me _now_.”

“But _why_? Just because his mother did...?”

“In part. He was also very jealous of how much of Father's attention I got.”

I frowned. “He's very...very...determined.” I looked sideways at Haurchefant. “Has he _ever_ laughed?”

“Once,” Haurchefant grinned at me. “The historians made note of it.”

His tone was so wry that I couldn't help but laugh.

We walked on in silence, and I pummeled my feelings back down. _I'll think about it later._

Emmanellain had waited for us at the end of the path, a bit beyond the Rose House. “How do I look? Dashing as always, with a suitable sprinkling of dirt and sweat? Excellent.” He gestured, trying for grandeur and managing only to look silly. “Let us return to Lady Laniaitte at once!”

Laniaitte greeted us with relief. “Praise Halone, I feared the worst! What happened out there?”

We told her what we had seen, and she recoiled in shock. “A _primal!?_ Are you sure!?” But then she seemed to consider. “Yet...now that I think on it, this Bismarck is reminiscent of the white whale of Vanu legend─a massive creature said to “swim” in the Sea of Clouds.” She shook her head. “I will double our watches and do what I can to bolster the defenses of the camp.”

“Aren't we forgetting something important, Lady Laniaitte? A little recognition for the hero of the hour? A few choice expressions of gratitude, respect, admiration, and so on...?”

She favored Emmanellain with a cool glance, and then smiled. “...Why _yes_. You are right, of course. Mistress Berylla deserves all that and more for having risked her life to rescue such an...esteemed personage.” The sarcasm in her words would have shriveled most men.

But apparently, Emmanellain was immune to such tactics. _Or too stupid to hear what she really means_. “So that's it, then? No more forays into enemy territory? Very well, I can see my services are no longer needed.” He gave her a courtly bow, that looked all the more ridiculous for being so out of place in the middle of a rough camp. “Take care, Lady Laniaitte. May our next meeting take place under more...felicitous circumstances.” His attempt at imitating Haurchefant at his most flirtatious was...cringe worthy.

Then, the boy turned around and headed back to Camp Cloudtop. Honoroit gave his own, respectful bow, and then – as he seemed to always do – he scurried after Emmanellain.

Laniaitte sighed deeply. “All things considered, Emmanellain came through relatively unscathed. More's the pity─he might have learned something otherwise.”

“Well, if there is naught else to discuss, I would depart for Ishgard forthwith. The Holy See and the Temple Knights must be informed of this new threat without delay.” Haurchefant cocked his head, waiting for me.

“Mistress Berylla, you have done more than enough here. Pray return to Ishgard with Lord Haurchefant and give my warmest regards to the count.” Laniaitte's smile was as sweet as her brother's, and I couldn't help but smile back.

“I wish you the best,” I told her, and gave her a sincere bow. Then, Haurchefant and I both turned our steps back to Camp Cloudtop, and the airship, and Ishgard.


	18. Tribunal

Emmanellain headed for the manor house at once, leaving Haurchefant and I standing together. Haurchefant stretched, and then smiled at me. “I should go.”

“I wish you wouldn't. Not yet.”

“Berylla...” He sighed.

“I know. I _know_.” My shoulders slumped. “I didn't know I would miss you this much.”

He put his arms around me, a gentle – but chaste – hug. “I miss you, too, my dear.”

Then he stepped back. “I must make for the Congregation and inform Ser Aymeric of all that has occurred. A primal is a threat we cannot ignore.”

I nodded.

“Will you check on Emmanellain for me?”

“Yes. I will.” I took a step back, to keep myself from reaching for him.

“I'll come see you again before I leave the city,” he promised, and left me there.

I took my time walking to the manor. I had a lot of thinking to do.

I knew – I had known from the start – that Haurchefant was not a man who would settle for one lover. I knew that there was no real hope for any sort of formal, or lasting, relationship between us. Being what I was, every time I left home might be the last time I left home. Who could really live with that kind of fear? And then there was the damned fame, the name, the connections. I didn't _use_ that power, but others had tried to manipulate me, bend me to their will. A lover would come under the same threat, only to be used against me. A spouse, even more so.

And on top of all of it was the true nature of what I was – a being that existed outside of normal things like aging...injury...child-bearing. I was Hydaelyn's child, I was _Her_ instrument, and I just wasn't able to give a partner everything that they would, by right, expect. And when I passed from one life to the next – then what? Even the most devoted lover would forget me, almost as if I had never existed. Would trying to remember me drive them insane? Would losing me hurt more, knowing that I would come back, and yet be – someone else, and not “me” at all?

I couldn't remember ever wanting anything different. I'd tried – meditating on past lives, trying to remember. I had even prayed for guidance. Nothing had answered. As much as I had been forgotten, I too had forgotten those others.

Maybe no one _had_ ever loved me before. I wasn't the easiest person to get along with, being silent more often than not. I could see that it unsettled most folks, how I simply showed up, killed things, and never spoke. I'd heard the whispers, more than once. “She's a cold-eyed killer. She'd sooner gut you than talk to you. She's dangerous.”

 _Oh yes. They're so happy to see me when there is trouble to be driven off, but then they're all too eager to see me go._ Where I walked, death too often followed. And no matter how many acts of gentle kindness I might perform, what people would remember was the violence, the killing, the terrifying power that I could wield when I had to.

So of course I was alone. I always would be.

Haurchefant had been a revelation. A miracle. He wasn't afraid of me, and never had been. He saw me – _me_ , Berylla, the flawed and foolish and awkward and lonely _person_ that walked inside the shell of the vaunted “Warrior of Light.” And he cared for me...

 _Gods damn it, it's not fair_.

I stopped walking, and looked out over the clouds. I forced myself to breathe, and let go of the self-pity, prying my mental fingers from the pain.

_He isn't dead. I'm not dead. I will treasure every minute I can spend with him, no matter what. I won't whine about how unfair it is. I won't ask him for more than he can give me._

_I won't cry over him. Not where anyone can see me, anyway._

I raised my head and scrubbed the water off my cheeks. It was time to get back to doing things, instead of living in my skull this way.

Emmanellain had been well chastised for his recklessness. I had all I could do to keep my face neutral as I saw the bruise on his cheek. “Did Father _have_ to strike me so hard?”

 _I would have beaten you until you had to stand to take your meals, kid_.

But soon enough, he was ready to wander back out into the city, doubtless for another afternoon of gossip over hot tea in the market place.

The Count came in shortly after that, and was in the middle of thanking me for not letting his youngest son get killed when their steward ran into the room.

“What is it? Speak.”

I came into the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly, banging the door as I went.

“What do you mean, Alphinaud's been arrested?!” I came to stand before the table, my hands on my hips, glaring at Aymeric, who sat on the other side.

Haurchefant put a hand on my shoulder. “I was about to come fetch you...”

I shrugged his hand away, continuing to glare across the table. Aymeric regarded me calmly.

“It has been too long, Berylla. Would that this visit came under happier circumstances. You are come to plead for Master Alphinaud and Mistress Tataru, I take it?”

Haurchefant hurried to speak before I opened my mouth and started swearing.

“Word of their detainment reached us while I was delivering my report on the Vanu primal. Truly, I know not which is the more ludicrous─these charges or that flying feathered whale!”

I took a deep breath, quivering with rage. Haurchefant's hand was on my shoulder again, pressing. I looked over at him, and saw in his eyes the plea to calm down, to listen first.

To trust him.

I shook my head and dropped my hands to my sides. Aymeric gave me a nod of sympathy, and spoke quietly.

“That Ser Grinnaux's accusations are baseless, I have no doubt. Refuting them will be difficult, however, as he is a knight of the Heavens' Ward.” I cocked my head at him, questioning, and he elaborated. “I speak of the personal guard of the archbishop─the twelve finest knights in all of Ishgard, sworn to serve His Eminence alone. Suffice it to say, their testimony is unimpeachable, and I have not the authority to challenge their actions.”

My hands flexed, but it was Haurchefant who spoke.

“After all the Scions have done─routing the heretics and defeating Shiva, helping us to defend the Steps of Faith and drive back the Dravanian Horde─after proving themselves true allies on countless occasions, is there naught we can do!?”

Aymeric folded his hands and leaned his elbows on the table, thinking. “I fear there is but one path left to us...” He said slowly. “We must demand a trial by combat.”

Haurchefant snapped his fingers. “But of course!” He turned me to face him. “In a trial by combat sanctioned by the inquisition, the victor's claim is judged true regardless of the petitioner's standing!”

I narrowed my eyes in speculation and looked over at Aymeric, who nodded.

“Under Ishgardian law, a trial by combat pits the accuser against the accused. In this instance, Master Alphinaud and Mistress Tataru would be expected to face Ser Grinnaux and a second of his choosing─another knight of the Heavens' Ward, most like.”

I'd seen enough of the high-ranking knights of Ishgard...my jaw clenched. Tiny Tataru against one of those gods-damned brutes?

Once more Haurchefant protested in my stead, as if he knew just what sort of words I would choose. “ _Two_ of them?! That can hardly be considered fair.”

_Maybe he wants to keep me from making too much of an ass of myself. I suppose throwing a damn fit wouldn't help Alphinaud or Tataru. But gods this is infuriating!_

Aymeric held out a hand, palm up. “Master Alphinaud's magical talents will not have gone unnoticed, meaning that he will have no choice but to participate. Mistress Tataru, on the other hand, is quite obviously bereft of martial skill, and should be afforded the right to name a champion to fight in her stead.” He saw my expression, and his smile was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

“Lest you doubt, I am ready and willing to serve in this capacity, as I am sure is Lord Haurchefant...but all here present know that you are the most accomplished warrior among us, and maybe in the realm at large...”

I waved the compliment away. “I'm good enough to serve.” I raised an eyebrow at him, remembering how he'd knocked me flat on my back in two exchanges.

Haurchefant looked between the two of us, and grinned for a moment. But when I turned my eyes back to him, he was all business. “Then it is settled!”

 _Oh, is it now?_ But I didn't really mind his high handed words. A trial by combat – in other words, permission to beat the snot out of the man who'd accused my friends. Probably a better plan than storming the jail and breaking them out, I had to admit.

“I will visit Master Alphinaud at once, and inform him of our intentions. Berylla─meet me at the Tribunal when you have made ready. Until then, my friend!”

He hustled off, and I turned slowly to face Aymeric, my head tilted again in a question.

Aymeric smiled, reassuringly. “The trial will be held at the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine. I will be in attendance, as will many others with a vested interest in the outcome. Stint not in your preparations, my friend. The knights of the Heavens' Ward will provide a stern test for even one such as you.”

His eyes searched mine, though what he was looking for I had no idea. I nodded, once, and turned to go.

But as I walked up the winding stair towards the Tribunal, I fought to control my temper. I knew better than to face seasoned knights with nothing but wild rage. I needed a cool head for this fight. These men were the best of the best among the Ishgardians, and I had a feeling they weren't going to fuck around in this fight. They might cheat, they might decide to try and kill us. This was not going to be just for show.

I walked into the building, and Haurchefant latched onto my arm and tugged me into an alcove. He kept his voice down.

“Listen carefully, Berylla. When the trial begins, the petitioner will be asked to restate his charges, and the accused invited to respond. Then, in accordance with the law, they will be asked to restate their request for a trial by combat.” He waited for me to nod before continuing.

“Once the high adjudicator acknowledges Mistress Tataru's right to name a champion, that is when you must make your entrance! Oh, I cannot wait to see the look on Ser Grinnaux's face when he sees his true opponent! 'Twill be _priceless!_ ”

I looked up into his eyes, and his smile faded. He hugged me, and rested his forehead against mine. “More seriously...should you begin to lose heart, look to me in the stands, and I shall cheer so loud, you will wonder how you could ever have contrived to doubt yourself!” His words were lighthearted, but I heard the emotions under them, and shut my eyes. _He knows how deadly serious this is, and he doesn't want me to know he's afraid. All this excitement is a facade._

He stepped back, and took my hands. “Now, are you ready?”

I met his gaze, putting all that I could into it. _I'm not afraid, Haurchefant. I'm going in there and I'm going to kick their asses. Don't worry about me_. Then I nodded, firmly.

His smile was all I could have asked for.

The trial proceeded just as Haurchefant had said. I could see the two Knights as I waited for my time to walk into view. Both of them wore the most self-righteous smirks I had ever seen, and they moved like well-fed, confident predators. I hated them instantly.

I heard Alphinaud's voice ring out. “I, Alphinaud Leveilleur, am innocent of this charge, and I claim my right to trial by combat!” The cold anger in his voice made my heart glad.

Tataru's voice trembled as she called for the right to name a champion, and the gathered crowd murmured. “Very well. Who will stand for this woman?” asked the High Inquisitor.

 _That's my cue_. I strode out from the alcove where I had waited. The crowd's murmurs grew to a small storm of whispering. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Haurchefant, standing near Aymeric, both of them standing with arms crossed. In the very front, Count Edmont, looking stern but calm.

Both of my friends looked at me with unashamed relief. “Let us put an end to this mummer's farce,” Alphinaud murmured to me, his tone savage.

The ground trembled as massive gears began to move. The very floor changed its configuration, and the two Knights pivoted neatly and walked across the newly-extended bit of floor that led into a small arena.

Alphinaud and I followed. As I passed her, I squeezed Tataru's shoulder in reassurance.


	19. Against the Heavens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special two-chapter update!

We squared off in the arena. I'd already forgotten the names of the two Knights. I didn't _care_ about their names. I wanted to wipe those smirks from their faces, and then wipe the floor with the both of them. I bared my teeth at them. The dark one had been the one to arrest Alphinaud and Tataru; he was smiling like a shark, and held an axe that looked so ornamented it ought to come to bits the moment he struck anything. The other one, holding a lance, was leering at me, his gaze traveling over my body in a way that made me feel slimy. _Teeth, then, and Scum_ , I decided. Good enough names for two who ought to be called knave, not knight.

A chime sounded, and we began.

Instantly Scum called out to Teeth. “I'll take the luscious one, you play with the boy.”

 _We'll see about that_.

I stepped forward, then threw myself sideways and shouldered into Teeth, knocking him off balance just as he lifted that fancy axe in the air. He stumbled a bit, and cursed me; the haft of his axe slapped me upside the head, and I grunted and kept moving, right to the edge of the arena. Scum said a word that I wouldn't have expected a nobleman to know.

Then he came for me, as Teeth circled round as if to get behind Alphinaud. My friend had his tome open, aether flowing as he muttered. Teeth was twice his height, but Alphinaud didn't budge an inch, flinging a spell into the knight's face, driving him backwards and making him claw at his eyes for a moment. I felt a little thrill of pride. _He might not look like much, folks, but the boy ain't dumb_.

I took my attention off Alphinaud's fight and dashed again, this time at an angle to Scum. He swiped at me with his lance, but the thing wasn't made for such efforts. The tip swished through my hair, yanking a few strands out.

I wrenched myself around, and went to my knees, skidding across the slick stone. I nearly tripped Scum with the haft of my axe, but just in time, he leaped up – a leap not unlike the one I had seen Aymeric use in our sparring match.

I turned my skid into a roll, and heard the lance strike against the stones where I had been. The metal rang like a bell.

I got to my feet, and set my feet, waiting for the inevitable charge. Scum grimaced as he yanked his lance tip up.

 _He actually cracked the stones with that strike. Yikes_.

But as I'd predicted, he charged me, blade flashing in the light.

I waited, eyes narrowed, and at the last moment, side-stepped. My hand lashed out and I grabbed the haft of the lance and spun, yanking him along, and nearly threw him out of the arena before he got control of his weapon back. The maneuver ended with me inches away from him, my back turned toward him, with his lance trapped under my arm.

He growled in my ear, his tone lewd. “I don't mind it rough, but I'll tame you, bitch, never doubt it.”

Pure fury fueled my arm as I whipped around and punched him in the face. From the stands I heard shouts as he staggered back a step, blood splattering from his mouth. “Tame this,” I snarled, and kicked him in the chest.

His lance clattered after him, and I brought my axe up, stalking across the arena. _I'm going to chop your stones off, you son of a bitch!_

He scrambled, his face blank with shock, and got his guard up just in time to keep me from bisecting him with an overhanded strike.

Then he shouted something, and lightning struck. Pain blossomed down both my arms as I went flying. I could smell ozone and burned meat.

I crashed to the ground, brains rattled and blood leaking from my nose. My hands felt as if they'd been burned to my weapon, but I didn't let go, didn't look.

_Okay, then, you want to involve higher powers. We can play that game._

I shot to my feet. I saw him running towards me. I braced, and let the power flow through me. I didn't need any fancy words. He never saw the air in front of me shimmer, and ran full tilt into the wall of force that I'd erected with my will and my own aether. The force of it flung him to his knees, and his nose crunched. Blood stained his pretty white armor.

My teeth were chattering and my nerves were on fire. But this was not the time to rest. Not yet.

I swung.

My axe bit into his shoulder, and he screamed.

Lightning exploded against the stones where I'd been, as his strike missed. I stepped forward, and kicked him in the head.

Behind me, I heard Alphinaud's shout, and faintly registered Tataru's shriek of fear. “Berylla! He's in trouble!”

Scum wasn't moving for the moment, and I whirled to see Teeth standing there, grinning as he tightened chains around Alphinaud's chest – chains made of darkness.

I crashed into him again, and this time clouted him across the head for good measure. Alphinaud dropped to his knees, but scrambled back up, panting for breath. “Thanks!”

“You heretic whore!” Teeth spat, and started toward me.

I bound his axe with mine, and kicked him in the knee. He went down, but Scum was getting to his feet, shaking his head like an angry bull.

He held his lance aloft and shouted, and blue orbs of lightning sprang into being all around him. They pulsed twice, and then shot toward me.

Eyes wide, I leaped straight upwards. I knew I couldn't match the sort of leap Aymeric had shown me, but all I needed was to get above those damned orbs...!

I could feel the crackle beneath me as I flipped in the air. My nose was mere inches from the last orb. I crashed to the floor, unable to complete the flip properly. New pain bloomed across my face.

I spat out blood, even as I scrabbled for my axe and tried to get on my feet.

Alphinaud's voice galvanized me. “Berylla!”

Scum was moving like a drunkard, but Teeth was on top of me. He swatted me with his axe, and I went sliding across the floor, sprawling to a stop a few feet from Alphinaud.

His free hand moved in complicated gestures, and I felt a soothing coolness wash over me. As Teeth came running towards the both of us, a cool green shield wrapped around me. My pain faded away, and I stood up.

I stepped into his attack, ruining his swing and advancing. One strike, two, a third, a fourth – I battered him with no finesse, my axe a hurricane of steel. With my fifth stroke, he went to one knee. With my sixth, I struck his axe out of his hands and it clattered right out of the arena, fetching up on the wall. Only the iron spikes there kept the weapon from plummeting into the abyss below.

I brought my axe down a seventh time – people in the stands screamed – and my blade stopped a single inch from his bare neck. “Yield,” I demanded.

Breathing hard, he nodded the tiniest fraction.

But his eyes gleamed, and something about his gaze made me move.

I spun, and realized that I couldn't see Scum. Alphinaud's eyes were cast upward, his mouth open in shock. Tataru screamed in pure terror.

I continued my spin, and swung as hard as I could.

Scum came down like a strike from the gods themselves, his lance striking the stones so hard that shards went flying, cutting Alphinaud's face and mine. But he had no chance to even straighten from his strike before my axe smashed into him. He flopped like a fish, his armor crushed, struggling just to breathe.

The crowd around us went insane.

The chime sounded, three times, and the Inquisitor pronounced, “The Fury has spoken! Alphinaud Leveilleur, Tataru Taru – you are hereby acquitted of all charges. Blessed are we who receive of Her wisdom and see justice wrought by Her divine hand! Petitioners, accused – go forth in peace!”

I bent, gasping for breath, grinning wildly, on the edge of hysteria. _More like in pieces. Gods, I hurt_...

Alphinaud came to me, murmuring, and slowly I was able to stand up straight again. Others came into the arena, ministering to the fallen Knights. I ignored them utterly, and focused my eyes on Alphinaud's.

“Delivered from an untimely demise yet again. My thanks, as always.” His voice was soft.

I coughed a little, and nodded. “Always. You owe me a hug, later.”

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a hiccup, and his eyes shone, suspiciously wet. “Yes.”

“Let's get the hell out of here.” I started for the entrance, where Tataru was still dancing in a little circle, ecstatic with joy and relief. Limping a little, Alphinaud followed.

A priest clad in white robes with red trim met us in the hallway outside the court-room. “I am to attend to your injuries,” he told us, and I grunted acceptance. Alphinaud's spells had helped, but this man was far more powerful. When he lifted his hands away from my shoulders, I no longer felt as if I'd been roasted to medium-well.

I bowed to the priest. “My thanks.”

“Go with Halone, child.”

Tataru and Alphinaud had gone home with Count Edmont. Aymeric had given me a warm smile, but then someone had come up to him, and he had walked away. _Probably to get back to work_.

Now I stood alone in the front hall of the Tribunal, feeling the easy weariness seeping into my bones. Pain and injury were one thing; no magic could bring back the energy I'd spent. Only time and rest would do that. _I'll go back to the manor soon_...

“There you are.”

I turned, and smiled as Haurchefant came up to me. His grin was so wide I felt sure his face must hurt.

“By the Fury, what a splendid victory! To see how you strove in the face of adversity─two brave young souls bound together by friendship!”

I couldn't help but laugh at the joy in his voice. “I'm glad you were entertained.”

He gave me a half bow, and then he lowered his voice a little. “Having been treated to such a rousing spectacle, it seems only right that I present you with a humble token of mine admiration. Pray take this.”

He handed me a smoothly carved whistle, of the sort that could summon a riding bird from anywhere. I had such a whistle for Joy, that I only used when I wasn't near any sort of civilization...

I raised my eyes to his. He covered my hands with his, and I realized he was shaking a little.

“I raised her myself,” he told me quietly. “Her name is Midnight. She's fully trained, Berylla – ready to fly.”

I sucked in a breath as I realized that he meant an Ishgardian bird – fully flighted and black as a stormy night. I'd admired them when I went with Artoirel...but how had Haurchefant learned that?

“Haurchefant, that's...are you sure?”

He took the whistle back from me long enough to blow into it. A mellow note sounded, and as if walking through an invisible door, a tall black bird appeared. Midnight trilled very softly to Haurchefant before eyeing me. She looked clever, and her feathers gleamed in the lantern light like satin.

“Magnificent, is she not? What say you, Berylla─will you take her for your steed?”

My heart stopped. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Suddenly a voice rang out. “Lord Haurchefant! Animals are prohibited in the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine! Your steed must remain outside!”

The steward was so incensed that there was nothing for it but to lead the bird outside.

As the door slammed behind us, Haurchefant muttered, “I don't see the problem. She's house-broken.”

I couldn't contain my giggles.

We walked along the highest promenade in the city. It was night, and no one was around to see us except the moon, creeping up over the city's walls. The bird-whistle rested in my belt pouch.

“I do hope you like her.”

“I do, and I will take care of her like the treasure she is.”

I turned to him and put my arms around him. He laid his head against mine, and held me.

I shut my eyes. _I love this man_.

Midnight was more than a mere token of admiration. I understood that without his having to tell me. We couldn't be together. He wouldn't have asked me – nor I, him. And neither of us could ever have said yes. This was as close as he could come to commitment.

But it was enough.

“Haurchefant.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Kiss me.” I lifted my head. “Just...one more time. Please.”

It was the sweetest, most painful kiss. When he stopped, I lay my head on his shoulder, and let the tears come, silently. Not sobbing, just...letting go.

We stayed like that until the moon crested over the spires of the cathedral.


	20. Archbishop

I woke late in the morning, and wandered out of my room, still barefoot, to discover that a huge breakfast had been laid out.

“No formality,” Count Edmont waved to me. “Just come and eat.”

I had no problem with that. The table was large, but it was also crowded: the Count, his sons, Honoroit, and Alphinaud were all seated already. There was one chair left, at the end of the table opposite the Count.

“Haurchefant left last night,” Emmanellain told me as I sat down.

“I know. I saw him off,” I said.

The younger brother paused, eyeing me, and I shook my head a little. “He said he'd been intending to head back as soon as his report to Ser Aymeric was completed, but then...”

“Indeed.” Emmanellain took a swallow of fruit juice. “Are you _trying_ to become the talk of the city? Because if you are, you're doing an admirable job of it.”

I laughed a little, and speared some sausages and biscuits – the fluffiest such I'd ever seen. I kept myself to water, though. I knew that after yesterday's exertions – not to mention all the injuries and healing magics – I was going to need water more than even food.

Alphinaud's usual sniff of derision at my eating habits was absent – largely because even Count Edmont was eating just as hugely as I was. I paused for one moment, as I was filling my plate a third time, noticing that the Count was having yet another plate full as well – and he'd been here before me. And he was drinking cup after cup of tea, with sugar and cream. I smiled a little, amused at myself. _I fit in with this family too well._

Alphinaud had long since stopped eating by the time Artoirel and the Count both declared that they were full. Emmanellain and Honoroit were both still eating with the single-minded intensity so peculiar to young men. I was contemplating trying some of the coffee – Alphinaud had been sipping at a cup of it for a while now, and it smelled heavenly.

The steward came in, holding a white square of paper. I noticed that his hand was shaking just a trifle.

“Eh?” The Count looked over at him, questioningly.

“M-my lord.” The steward handed over the note. “The archbishop requests the presence of Mistress Berylla...”

Emmanellain looked up at that, jaw dropping open. “What? An invitation from the archbishop!?”

Artoirel also looked amazed. “What an honor...”

I sat up, and cocked my head. I knew the archbishop was an important figure...essentially, the king of Ishgard, in every way that mattered. But no one ever really talked about him, and I knew absolutely nothing about protocol even for places I was familiar with...

Alphinaud's eyes widened a little, and he traded glances with me. I saw from the shock on his face that he didn't know any more than I did.

Count Edmont stood up, and so did I. “A personal summons is indeed a great honor, and given recent events, you would be wise not to delay...” He walked over to me, and handed the square of paper over. It was the heaviest piece of paper I'd ever held in my hand. “Go, Mistress Berylla. We shall speak anon.”

I met his gaze, and nodded.

I did take the time to get dressed properly first – it might have been all right to come to the table barefoot, but it certainly would not do for meeting the single most important man in the city.

I brushed my hair and left it loose, and put on the best clothes I owned. Then, seeing myself in the full length mirror in my room, I frowned.

The pants were blue, well-worn heavy canvas; comfortable, practical...and plain. The same for my vest and tunic, neither of them new, neither bearing much in the way of ornamentation.

My boots were slightly nicer – but still nothing like the stylish foot-wear any of the members of House Fortemps sported. _Hell, even their servants dress better than I do_...

I turned at the sound of a tap on my door. “Yes? Come in.”

Alphinaud peeked around the door, and stepped inside. He eyed me up and down.

“You look...”

“I know.” I sighed. “Nothing for it. This is the best I have, it'll have to do.”

“I thought I might have something that would help a little.” He seemed suddenly nervous.

I tilted my head at him, inquisitively. “Eh?”

He set a carved wooden box on the bed.

I picked it up, and opened it. My mouth dropped open and my eyes flew to his. “Alphinaud?”

He was looking everywhere around the room but at me.

My fingers trembled a little as I lifted the hair ornament from the box. A single comb, featuring a carved and beautifully painted hawk's feather... “This is exquisite,” I said quietly. “Where...no, _why_?”

“Call it a birthday gift.”

I swallowed hard. My birthday was in the winter...but I'd never told anyone that. “I will, then.”

I turned, and carefully worked the comb into my hair. My clothes were still plain, but somehow there was more of a sense of intent in their lack of ornamentation. The eye was drawn to the comb, as if I'd dressed simply specifically to emphasize its delicate beauty.

“Thank you...” I turned back to him, and before he could say anything, I stepped close, and hugged him.

“I really love it, Alphinaud. Thank you so much.”

He was pink in the cheeks when I let him go, but he was smiling – the happiest smile I'd seen from him since Uldah.

“I wish I could bring you with me,” I told him. “You're the one with the silver tongue. The one who can see so much more than I can. But the paper says very specifically that I have to come alone.”

“Well,” he gestured slightly at the hair comb, “I'll be with you in spirit, at least.” His hand hovered, as if he wanted to touch my cheek.

I smiled, and eased back just a little. “I need to get going.”

He dropped his hand, and nodded. “Tell me everything when you get back.”

“You can count on it.”

I left, not wanting to acknowledge the things he hadn't said, the feelings that had flashed behind those blue eyes, like swimming shadows in the sea.

I walked into the archbishop's audience chamber. I had never in my life felt so insignificant. The ceiling was so high up that parts of it were hidden in shadow. The vast space echoed, and my every step sent whispers into the rafters, to flit about like ghosts. The men standing before the dais each held so still as to seem like statues – no doubt a necessary habit. I couldn't imagine this room full of babbling people. Yet again I wondered how on earth any man – any hundred men! - could have fashioned something on this scale.

Yet all the grandeur and intimidation of the architecture focused attention to one point – the throne on the dais. And sitting on that throne, an old man...

Archbishop Thordan VII looked upon me as I approached, his face completely unreadable, serene as the face of a mountain. The sense of power radiating from him was only reinforced by the soldiers, the stillness, the room itself. I stopped where my escort left me, a mere yard away from the steps to the dais, and I felt as if some massive weight were poised directly above my head, like an avalanche. Any wrong move could bring it all crashing down...

I straightened my back, refusing to be cowed by that weight of history and power. Covertly, I pinched my own leg, grounding myself. _He pisses in the morning just like the rest of us_. The irreverent thought helped, and I kept my chin up.

Aymeric stood in front of me, to my left; a white-armored Knight stood to my right. He wasn't one of the ones I'd beaten yesterday. He kept his eyes on the ground, as if he were shy.

I turned my eyes to Aymeric. He looked more formal than I'd ever seen him, his back ram-rod straight and his face utterly without expression. Compared to how I remembered him in the hot spring, now he was made of ice.

He half turned, and with excruciating precision of diction, he spoke. “Archbishop. It is my honor to present the Warrior of Light.”

 _Present me? Was I invited or not?_ I hid my confusion. I would never be comfortable with high court manners and protocol.

But it was never the wrong choice to remain still and silent. And so I stood, in a stance that could never be mistaken for parade rest, and waited.

“The lord commander has been most effusive in his praise,” the old man said. His voice rolled out into the room, deep as thunder, yet somehow quiet. Something about his voice reminded me of...someone.

But he was continuing to speak, and I concentrated, trying to commit every word to memory.

I did not try to hide my amazement as I listened to him formally apologize for what had led to yesterday's trial, and then admonished – publicly, in a way – the Knights as a whole in the person of their commander. Bad as I was at diplomatic nuance, I still got that much.

And then he asked for privacy.

His men left obediently, their steps synchronized to the point that they sounded like one person moving away, not twenty. Aymeric, too, left, fixing me with a meaningful look as he passed me. I locked eyes with him, trying to fathom whatever message he was trying to send me, but it was hopeless.

The great stone doors shut, and I was completely alone with the most powerful man in Ishgard.

“What do you know of the Ascians?”

My gasp was loud as a shout. He gave me a tiny, wintry smile.

“I have entertained them as guests,” he said in that smooth, deep voice. “Of course I do not plan to aid their cause...but were I to refuse them outright, I should learn naught of their true objectives, and remain powerless to stop them.” I could only listen, frozen in place, unable to look away from his pale, pale eyes. “Thus have I hearkened to their words with interest, and paid lip service to their beliefs, biding my time and preparing for the inevitable conflict.”

He sat back a fraction of an inch. “And why do I tell you this? Because there is naught in this world that they fear more than the power of the Warrior of Light.”

He spoke then of working together, of combining our strength, of wresting Eorzea away from the Ascians. He spoke of “paving the way for a lasting peace.”

“Think on it,” he concluded, and automatically, I nodded once.

His smile reminded me of a serpent greeting its next meal.

I returned to the manor a scant hour after I had left, my steps slow and my head whirling.

_The Archbishop is consorting with Ascians. And he thinks he can outfox them. He's playing around with the most dangerous beings I've ever known, and he has delusions that he can best them!_

_What have I stumbled into? There's more going on in this place than I've been told...more than I've seen. There are secrets on secrets in this place_. I felt dizzy, sick to my stomach. _I'm no good at intrigues! I don't have the head for this!_

I came inside, and wandered into the main room, with its couches and roaring fireplace. I sat before the fire, and stared into the flames, my mind running in useless, tightening circles of assorted panic.

“Mistress Berylla? Are you well?”

I jumped.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Mistress!”

“Honoroit.” I blinked at him, owlishly. “No need to apologize...I was just...thinking.”

“Forgive me...but you look rather peaked.”

“Do I?” I shook my head. “I'm...I'll be all right. Would you be so kind as to track down Alphinaud, and the Count?”

“Certainly, Mistress.” The boy bowed with his customary grace and hurried away. I returned to staring at the fire.

“Berylla? Honoroit said you needed to speak with us?” The Count took one look at my face and immediately sat beside me on the couch. “You look terrible. Boy!” He turned his head to speak to Honoroit. “Have the cook bring a tray. Coffee, if you please.” He took my hands in his and chafed them, gently. I realized then how cold I still was, despite the fire.

“Aye, my lord! At once!”

Alphinaud sat down on the chair nearby. “What happened?”

“Nothing...nothing happened really. He just...talked.” I frowned. “I have a feeling I missed a hell of lot of unspoken stuff.” I rubbed my eyes. “I'm not you, Alphinaud, I have no talent for this sort of thing.”

“Tell me everything you can remember,” he urged.

Honoroit returned bearing a silver tray, and the Count put together a cup of coffee for me with his own hands. My hands still shook. _I feel like I ran up a mountain, just from thinking this hard._

Slowly, I sipped coffee and told them both every word I could clearly recall. I tried not to color my words with my own feelings.

I hadn't liked those bully-boy guards of his, but Thordan himself...Some place inside me was cold as ice. _He's terrifying. He believes, so strongly, that his way is the only way...he'll do anything to further his goals. Anything at all. Men like that will kill children in cold blood, with a smile on their faces, to get what they want_.

I finished the coffee in silence, as both the Count and Alphinaud sat back, thinking on all that I had told them.

 _I don't want to have to go against that man_.

“For the moment,” the Count said, at last, “I think we can take it as read that the archbishop has no objections to your presence and will not protest any tasks you choose to take on.”

“And that he won't allow harm to come to you, or to Tataru,” Alphinaud added.

“Or _you_ ,” I frowned at him. “We're all in this together.”

“A formal apology, and an admonishment of those responsible,” Alphinaud mused. “That goes a long way to salving _my_ pride, at least.”

“I feel like..” I hesitated.

“Go on, dear,” Count Edmont said. His words hurt me, like knocking on a bruise, but I pushed the pain of missing Haurchefant away.

“I just feel like he was weaseling his way out of really making amends.” I looked down at my empty cup. “I don't know why.”

“It is understandable enough,” the Count said, taking the empty cup from me and setting it on the tray.

“The thing that bothers me,” said Alphinaud, “is that the Ascians have plans in motion here in Ishgard as well. That means new primals _will_ appear – you can count on it. It's only a matter of time.” He bit his thumbnail. “But with most of our allies missing, what can we truly accomplish?”

The door opened. “Alphinaud? Berylla? Ah, there you are!” Tataru hustled up to us.

“Tataru, is something wrong?” I asked. She wasn't usually away from the tavern at this hour.

“No, not exactly, but – well, with everything that happened yesterday, I didn't get around to telling you the news.”

“What news?” Alphinaud tilted his head.

“I heard the most awful rumor, just before we were...um...detained,” she said. “They say that the General is to be executed for crimes against the sultanate!”

“ _What!_ ” Alphinaud shot to his feet. I leaned forward, fixing Tataru with a hard look.

“Just a rumor, or something concrete, Tataru?”

“As of this morning, it's concrete,” she stated firmly.

“We have to stop this execution from happening!” Alphinaud declared.

“And just how do you plan to accomplish that?” the Count asked.

“Do you recall those negotiations three days ago, my lord? The ones with the Lominsan consortium?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I was able, via one of their representatives, to send a message to the Admiral. A reply arrived this morning.”

“Well?” I said. “You have a look in your eye, Alphinaud.”

“We're not wanted.”

I sat straight up. “What?”

“Well...not in Limsa, we aren't.” He shook his head. “I cannot say the same for Gridania, and I would highly doubt that such is true in Uldah, but in Limsa, at least, we are welcome.”

Tataru clapped her hands together with delight. “That means the Admiral believes that we're innocent, right?”

“At the very least it means that.” Alphinaud's eyes were filled with determination. “Haurchefant counseled restraint, and he was not wrong...but we must at least attempt to gather more direct information than tavern rumors.”

He paused, and looked down at Tataru, his cheeks pink. “No offense to you, Tataru...”

“Pish,” she waggled her fingers at him, waving away his concern. “I sift through them before I bother telling you, but I'm fallible too. What's more, I think you're right. You two should go.”

“You will return,” the Count said. It wasn't a request.

“We will,” I promised, nodding. “We are by no means out of the fire yet. But if we can save the General...if there is any chance at all...”

“You must take it.” He nodded. “Keep me informed, Alphinaud.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Alphinaud's smile was grateful, and he bowed deeply.

“Best not to waste any more time,” I said, getting up. “Let's get to the airship landing. There's always one to Gridania, at least, and from there...”

As we left, I felt a glimmer of hope. _Maybe we_ _ **can**_ _turn our fortunes around. Gods, if we can pull this off...maybe we really will find the others._


	21. Raubahn

I stood at the railing, my face turned to the sea wind, and breathed deeply. Alphinaud's face was turned up to the blazing sun, and he looked happy as a cat as he basked in the warmth.

“We should get to this meeting,” I told him, even though I was reluctant to cut short this moment of peace.

He sighed, and nodded, eyes still closed for a moment. Then he stretched briefly. “Let's go.”

The door man greeted us warmly, and sent us up immediately to the Admiral's office.

The tall woman turned as we came in. She had never been one for displays of emotion – even in the face of utter destruction at Carteneau, she'd never wavered for a moment in the sight of anyone. But the warm smile she gave us carried a ship's worth of meaning.

“Friends,” she said, and that word alone hung in the air for a moment. “It is good to see you safe and well. I will admit, I had not counted on you seeking – let alone finding – refuge within the Holy See, but full glad I was to learn that you had.”

Alphinaud bowed. “Thankfully we had allies there, who took us under their wing. And theirs was not the only aid we received, I suspect. When we fled Uldah, we fully expected to become wanted fugitives, known to all and hounded at every turn. Yet that did not come to pass. On the contrary, it would seem that the charges against us have not been made public.” He raised one eyebrow, smiling slightly. “Might we have you to thank for that?”

The Admiral chuckled. “Sharp as ever, Master Alphinaud. On Marshal Tarupin's urging, The Elder Seer and I demanded that the Syndicate suppress news of the Scions' alleged crimes, until such time as irrefutable evidence could be found. Our argument was simple: lacking proof, to accuse the saviors of the realm of so unlikely a crime would have the people up in arms.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she added, “In their wisdom, the Syndicate agreed.”

She shifted her weight. “There's something you should know. Some few days prior to the banquet, the Elder Seer and I were summoned to a private audience with the sultana. She revealed to us her intent to announce her abdication, that she might pave the way for a new Uldahn republic.”

I sucked in a breath. _Was that what Nanamo was trying to tell me, before...?_

Alphinaud's brow furrowed. “But such an announcement would plunge the nation into chaos!”

The Admiral nodded. “She was well aware of that. It was for fear of what might ensue, that she summoned us. Her Grace wanted us to lend General Raubahn a helping hand – to aid him in preserving the peace during the transition.”

Alphinaud bit the side of his thumb as he thought out loud. “So having somehow caught wind of her plan, Lolorito and Teledji plotted the sultana's assassination in the hope of maintaining the constitutional status quo?” His teeth dug into the flesh for a moment. “But they must have known that her death would sow as much chaos as her abdication – chaos from which Teledji alone might conceivably stand to profit. Surely Lolorito would never knowingly...”

His eyes widened, and he uttered soft curse. “Ah. Could it be?”

I watched him, wondering what had just occurred to him. The Admiral's eyes narrowed.

Her second in command spoke up. “The Uldahn authorities have yet to announce the sultana's passing. To allay suspicions, they have issued a statement that she is convalescing from illness.”

I frowned, confused. It had been weeks now since that awful night. Did they think they could hide what they'd done forever?

The Admiral observed, “Perhaps they're waiting for the right moment. Or...” She was still watching Alphinaud closely. “Or perhaps they know of some other reason to delay.”

Alphinaud's expression was that almost-smug smile he always wore when he'd figured something out, but wasn't going to say anything yet – his “I know something you don't” face.

“Something else has been bothering me, Admiral.” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “I was dismayed to learn that Raubahn is to be executed – yet upon hearing the news, I could not help but wonder why he had been kept alive for so long.” He lifted a hand. “I am of course overjoyed that our friend still draws breath, and that he might be saved! But if his enemies truly wished to eliminate him, they could have done so immediately. I see no reason for their delay.”

The Admiral seemed to sigh, as if accepting that Alphinaud wasn't going to speculate on the situation within Uldah, and nodded. “Aye. You've struck upon an important point.” She tapped her fingers against her wide belt. “Following his capture, Raubahn had been held in the palace dungeons, within Uldah. In recent days, however, he has reportedly been moved to an unknown location.” Her eyes once again watched Alphinaud closely. “It was not the Brass Blades who spirited him away, but a band of soldiers decked in blue.”

Alphinaud's calm pose dropped. He straightened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“The Crystal Braves.” I had never heard his voice so saturated with rage. The grief beneath the anger made my heart ache all over again.

The Admiral tilted her head, and gave him a tiny, approving smile. “If I read the winds right, the...arrangement between Lolorito and the Braves has come under strain.”

She straightened, her tone becoming more brisk. “At any rate, if we're to rescue Raubahn, we'll have to find him first. And you'll be glad to hear that I have already entrusted the task to those best able to see it done – our friends of Doma.”

Then she sighed. “But that is the most I can do. I cannot send troops into Uldah. It would spell the end of the Alliance, and war, like as not. If there is to be a rescue, it falls to you and yours to attempt it.”

Alphinaud's jaw firmed. “I would not have it any other way, Admiral. It was I who founded the Crystal Braves, and I who must take responsibility for their actions.”

I bit my lip to keep myself from arguing with him about _that_. But the Admiral smiled at him, a warm smile like the one she'd bestowed on us at the first.

“Spoken like a true leader, Master Alphinaud.” She waved toward the door, and added, “By way of a first step, you should seek out our Doman contact. You will find her among the frontier hands at Revenant's Toll, working in a kitchen.”

Alphinaud bowed deeply, and headed for the door. I hesitated, and as the door shut quietly, the Admiral nodded. “You wish to say something?”

I shook my head. “I...there are a lot of things I could say, Admiral. Most of them hurtful, untrue, and foolish.” I met her eyes. “I won't lie to you. When we fled, I thought for certain you believed the accusations. After all, what reason did you have to do otherwise?”

She turned away, and looked out the window as she spoke. “Though it's useless to dwell on the past, I often wonder if I could have─and should have─done more for you and Raubahn that day.” Her voice grew harsh with emotion. “Leaving the banquet was tantamount to leaving you and yours for dead. Should you think me craven, I wouldn't hold it against you.”

“I have never thought such of you. What hurt was thinking you no longer trusted me. And given that Limsa is...or was...my home...”

She looked over her shoulder at me. “Limsa will always be a home for you.” She looked back out over the water. “But I will make it up to you, this I swear. Come what may, know that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn can count on our cooperation.”

I bowed. “And we will always be at your side when you need us.”

I left.

“Why do you persist in shouldering the blame for them?”

Alphinaud's sigh was impatient. “It's not blame. It's responsibility. There's a difference.”

“What difference?”

“Blame is nothing but passive guilt. Responsibility demands action. That's the difference.” He frowned at nothing in particular. “The Crystal Braves may no longer answer to me, but that does not absolve me of responsibility. As commander, I am accountable for all the wrongs they have committed─all the havoc they have wreaked.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” I cleared my throat. “I just don't want you to keep...beating yourself up about it.”

He shook his head, and turned away. I sighed softly, knowing that I could talk until I turned blue, and he'd find some way to rationalize what he was doing. But it looked too much like needless penance to me. I kept remembering how he had wept in my arms. Did he cry at night, as I did?

We entered Revenant's Toll cautiously, keeping our eyes peeled for blue uniforms. But we didn't see any Braves as we made our way to the big kitchen that served most of the town, and even managed to avoid getting the attention of anyone we knew.

Higiri was, indeed, working there, neatly chopping what looked like a nigh-endless pile of vegetables and passing them along to another cook. She nodded to her co-worker and waved for us to follow her. As she washed her hands and hung up her apron, she told us in a low voice, “As the Admiral will have informed you, the General was recently moved from his cell in the city. At the same juncture, Yuyuhase and the 3rd Unit were observed leaving the Rising Stones.”

My eyebrows went up. _No wonder we didn't see any Braves. They aren't here_. She saw my expression and nodded. “This can be no simple coincidence. Their purpose, we believe, is to escort the Flame General to the scene of his execution. Suffice it to say, we have people shadowing the 3rd. Go to Highbridge. Seek out Doware. I will meet you there.”

I stood in the hall of the Waking Sands, waiting for Alphinaud to finish talking to the General.

Our rescue had been complicated, but ultimately successful. However, Raubahn was in bad shape. His horrific wound had barely been seen to, he'd been half-starved, and he bore the marks of many beatings. But he still walked tall, and the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed at all. He'd be safe here, with Urianger's wards keeping him hidden. He'd have time and quiet to recuperate.

But I couldn't wait to be gone. I would never be comfortable here again, after what the Imperials had done. I knew the place had been scrubbed dozens of times by now, but I still felt as if I could see the blood spattering the walls, hear the whimpering of the dying. The Sands would never be _clean_ again.

Alphinaud finally came out, his face still streaked with dust, but looking satisfied. “He's resting,” he began, when I heard the chime of his link-pearl. “Tataru? Yes, General Raubahn is now in safe hands.” He listened, frowning, and then cursed. “ _Another_ assault?? Very well. We shall return at once.”

He looked up at me. “It would seem we face another crisis. The Dravanians are preparing to resume their siege of the Holy See.”

I didn't need any urging. I turned on my heel and headed out the door.

Tataru greeted us in the foyer of the manor house. “There you are! Sorry for cutting your reunion with General Raubahn short.” She shook her head. “I wouldn't have bothered you, but the city's awash with rumors of another Dravanian attack, and Lord Haurchefant was _desperate_ to get hold of you. Speaking of whom, he and the others are waiting for you inside.” She nodded to the doors that led to the big sitting room.

I went in, Alphinaud following close behind. Haurchefant turned and saw us, and his smile was so relieved that I had a pretty good guess at just how bad the news was for true.”I'm glad to see you. Thank you for answering our call with such alacrity! As I am sure you are now aware, the Dravanians are once more gathering for war.”

Count Edmont nodded. “Mistress Berylla, Master Leveilleur─I must apologize for this abrupt summons, but we thought it best to have Mistress Tataru contact you by the most direct means available.”

Artoirel looked grim. “The Holy See has ordered that we make ready for battle.”

The Count regarded me, and spoke in a frank tone. “Nidhogg's minions gather once more for war. But I would not have you take up arms in another of our conflicts. When first you came to Ishgard, I offered you my protection. If I cannot ensure your safety here, I cannot well accept your aid, much less ask for it.” He stood tall, as if ready to accept his fate. “Scions of the Seventh Dawn, you are faced with a choice: to remain in a besieged Ishgard, or seek sanctuary elsewhere. I would not presume to influence your decision, but I must ask that you make it swiftly, lest our enemies force your hand.”

I blinked at him in surprise. I had expected to be set a task or asked about tactical ideas. Not told to run for my life!

Alphinaud spoke to me, sounding just a trifle annoyed. “The count would have us seek shelter from this storm, but I, for one, grow tired of running. If we are to shine the light of dawn, we must do so in the sight of our fellow man, not hunkered in a hole.” He met my eyes. “What say you, Berylla?”

I jammed my fists against my belt. “Of  _ course _ we're staying. This is our fight too.”

Haurchefant's smile warmed me to my toes, but I'd expected that. What I hadn't expected was the warm feeling of seeing Artoirel look relieved, and the relief and gratitude in the Count's eyes. _I really care about these people_ , I realized. _So quickly?_

“What tasks would you have us undertake?” Alphinaud asked.

“For now,” the Count told us, “pray turn your minds to any creative solutions for a city whose resources are stretched to the limit.”

“Very well. Berylla, step outside with me, would you? I have a few ideas already, but I'd rather discuss them in private before I present them in any formal manner.”

I raised my eyebrows, but I nodded, and followed him back outside. 


	22. A Simple Plan

Alphinaud collected Tataru on the way outside. Quietly, he led us over to the south promenade, looking out over the city walls.

“You've never felt the need to debate much before presenting an idea before,” I said.

His words were quiet. “Ishgard cannot endure another assault. Even should her knights succeed in turning back the horde, the casualties will be catastrophic.”

Tataru frowned. “Well, what choice do we have? It's not like we can talk it over with them. Dragons and men aren't exactly on speaking terms.”

Alphinaud turned his head to look at me. “With certain notable exceptions.”

My eyebrows went up as I caught his drift. Tataru gasped. “You don't mean _Iceheart_?”

Alphinaud's eyes remained on mine. “When you last spoke,” he said, “she lamented her crimes, yes?”

I nodded, remembering my conversation with the woman, in that cold cellar.

“Then there remains a sliver of hope. If we can persuade Iceheart to act our intermediary, we may yet be able to convince Nidhogg to abandon his bloody course.”

I understood now why he'd wanted to discuss this in private. None of the Ishgardians would have been thrilled with his “creative solution.”

A voice spoke behind us. “If there is to be a meeting, I would accompany you.”

We all three turned to see the Azure Dragoon, his black armor gleaming in the sunlight.

“Estinien?” Alphinaud's voice held confusion and a hint of concern.

The dragoon folded his arms across his chest. “Even with your intermediary, Nidhogg's blood rage may render him deaf to reason. However, the mere attempt may afford our forces time to prepare.” He shifted, and the edge of his lance glinted. “Of course...you might also consider a more direct approach to ending this conflict. With the power of the Eye at my disposal, and the vaunted strength of the Warrior of Light, we could conceivably slay the beast outright.”

Alphinaud's chin lifted. “If we are to risk a face to face meeting with the dread wyrm, I for one would feel safer in the company of the Azure Dragoon.” His eyes turned hard. “However, I will only turn to your lance if my words fail to find their mark. Is that clear?”

Estinien nodded coolly. “Perfectly.” His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “I shall assume that Iceheart enjoys similar diplomatic protection until instructed otherwise.”

_How very restrained of him._ I knew about the blood-lust that could rage in the dragoon's heart, and I was certain that he would literally leap upon any chance to destroy the objects of his hate. _Having him along is a risk, but I'm betting his skills will be critical to our survival._

He spoke again. “A word of advice. Think carefully before divulging the particulars of this plan to Ser Aymeric. It would not do to have the Lord Commander accused of consorting with heretics.”

Alphinaud nodded. “Indeed.” I smiled a little, hearing the tone of _no shit_ in his voice. But he remained polite. “Thank you for your counsel, Estinien. We shall be honored to have you with us.”

“Then I shall meet you in the lord commander's office.” Estinien turned on his heel and stalked away.

“Tataru, you'll stay here to keep everyone in communication, of course.” She nodded, and gave us a smile before walking back to the manor. I fell into step beside him as the two of us headed for the building that housed the Temple Knights.

I looked over at him as we walked. “Why are we talking to Aymeric?”

“We have chosen a difficult road─yet even should we succeed in winning Iceheart to our cause, our plans for parley will swiftly come to naught should the Holy See decide to strike first against the Horde. We must petition the lord commander's aid before we set forth.” He sighed a little, and flicked a hand across his bangs to get them out of his eyes. “I only hope that Ser Aymeric will be willing to muzzle Ishgard's forces on the strength of our vague assurances.”

“Assurances from you, even vague, are probably of more value to him than anything their star-gazers say,” I pointed out. “He practically said as much, before.”

We walked into the lord commander's office, just as Temple Knight was leaving. Aymeric smiled at us. “Ah, it seems I have visitors,” he said in a light tone. “And unlike those massing outside our walls, these ones are welcome.”

As I so often did, I faded back a little and let Alphinaud take the center of attention. But I didn't miss Aymeric's glance my way, and the odd glint in his eye. I remembered, suddenly, the last time I'd seen him, before coming to Ishgard. _Hot water, and cold beer. I still can't remember much about that night. What_ _ **really**_ _happened?_ Something in Aymeric's glance told me there was more to that story than Haurchefant had ever admitted.

But Alphinaud was speaking his piece, and I dragged my attention back to reality.

“Forgive us for interrupting, Ser Aymeric, but this concerns the impending assault. We believe there is a chance the invasion might be halted before it ever begins.” He nodded at Aymeric's small intake of breath. “I can divulge little more at this time, but I must request that you advise the Holy See to refrain from launching any preemptive sorties while we seek to put our plan in motion.”

Aymeric crossed his arms. “I will gladly lend my support to any endeavor that could spare the blood of my countrymen,” he said cautiously. “But I would know more of the cause you would have me champion. Will you not share anything of this mysterious undertaking?”

Estinien spoke up. “Know that I have offered my lance to aid in this endeavor. I cannot claim that its success is assured, but our actions should serve to delay Nidhogg's advance, at the very least.” He made a rude noise. “And that is more than can be said for the counterattack plan put forth by certain parties.”

Aymeric nodded grimly. “Their proposal does not inspire confidence,” he agreed. “Our resources should rightly be spent shoring up our defenses.” He sat back in his chair, and thought for a moment. He eyed Estinien, and then me. “The Azure Dragoon, and the Warrior of Light...perhaps going up against Nidhogg in combat?” He saw that his guess missed the mark, but shrugged. “Well. I feel a little more confident already.” He nodded to Alphinaud. “Go then – carry out your plan. I shall do what I can within the Holy See.”

Estinien turned and left without another word. Alphinaud and I took a moment to bow before following.

Tataru was at the manor, and we stopped there first. She seemed full of sunny optimism, but as we began to turn to leave, she suddenly jumped up and down. “Wait! Alphinaud! Put this on!”

“What?” He looked confused as she went over to one of the couches and picked up a stack of clothes.

“I made this for you! Come on, put it on!”

“No – I couldn't possibly accept...”

She stared at him, the clothes held out, and her eyes welled up with tears. Alphinaud sighed. “Very well.”

He took the clothes and left the room, and I looked down at Tataru. Her eyes danced with merriment. “The puppy dog look works every time,” she said with satisfaction.

I could only laugh.

When Alphinaud returned, I whistled. “Wow! Tataru, that is some nice work you've done.”

He fiddled with the hem of the long coat. “It's...very different.”

He seemed uncomfortable with our appraising looks, but the clothing itself really did look quite dashing. I smiled at our friend and she preened a little.

“It ought to be loads warmer than your old outfit,” Tataru told him. “I sewed special lining into it specifically for extra warmth!”

Alphinaud blinked rapidly a few times. “This was very thoughtful of you, Tataru. Thank you.”

“You're welcome!” She grinned. “Now go on, get started on your grand plan!”

“History tells us that the Dravanians will attack as soon as their Horde reaches a critical size. Before that happens, we must needs track down and win over the Lady Iceheart...and then locate and parley with Nidhogg.” Such had been Alphinaud's words as we collected Estinien and headed for Falcon's Nest.

_He makes it sound so simple. Why do I have the feeling that this is going to be anything but simple?_

“We will rest here for the night, and continue on in the morning.” Iceheart – or as she had asked us to call her, Ysayle – paced away, leaving us to our own devices.

Estinien's lip curled, and he wandered off. I wondered if he planned to spend most of our resting time perched on a roof somewhere, like a gargoyle. _Probably. He seems fond of brooding_.

Alphinaud was already chatting up one of the locals, a fellow who was obviously a scholarly sort, by the gigantic notebook in his arms. I shrugged, and wandered off to find a quiet spot.

_There's going to be trouble between Ysayle and Estinien, sooner or later._ I climbed up onto a shelf of rock that afforded a view of the sky. Not much of a view, it was true – the canopy was thick – but there were breaks in the foliage here and there.

I lay on my back, and considered what to do about the dragoon and the heretic. _Should I do anything at all? It's not like it's my business. They don't need to be best friends in order for this to work. But it would be helpful if they weren't at each other's throats all the time._

_Bah_. I shoved it out of my mind, and focused on listening to the wind in the trees. The stone was warm from the day's sun, and the quiet chatter in the village seemed to harmonize with the other sounds – the water of the stream that flowed through Tailfeather, the wind, the chirrups and whistles of the many birds that were even now crowding around a trough for their evening feed. My eyes drifted shut.

_The air was thick with a stinking yellow mist that stung the eyes. Clicking sounds surrounded me, and a rapid tapping as of many walking-sticks striking the ground in time. Heat washed over my face, and a stronger gust of the sulfurous mist, making me cough. I caught sight of white hair at the edge of my vision and turned my head. A figure lay crumpled on the ground, blue clothing disarranged. Before I could move, a blade coated in flame swung down towards me, as something huge began to laugh..._

I sat up with a gasp. Alphinaud was kneeling beside me, his face concerned.

“You were having some sort of dream,” he said quietly. “Are you all right?”

I looked at him, blinking. _That didn't feel like a dream. That was a vision..._

Alphinaud's hair swung over his shoulder as he reached out to put a hand on my back.

_White hair on the ground. A figure in blue, limp as if unconscious_.

I turned toward him, and grabbed him in a hug.

Startled, he froze for a moment, before his arms went around me. “It was a dream,” he told me soothingly, his hands patting my back gently. “Just a dream.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just...one _hell_ of an awful dream.”

I made myself relax and let him go. He kept one hand on my shoulder. “Will you be all right? I came to fetch you for a bit of supper, but if you'd rather not...”

“I'm fine. Food sounds...good.” I tugged my hair free of its tie, and gave it a rough finger combing. Then I tied it back again. The brief bit of grooming gave me enough to time to clear my head. “Did you find out anything more about these bug-men?”

“A little. But perhaps we won't have to worry about them after all. Come on.” He stood, and offered me his hand. I took it, and followed him back down into the village.

_If that_ _ **was**_ _a vision, I'll be damned if I let it come true_.


	23. Hive

We returned to Tailfeather the next evening, none of us in a pleasant mood. I watched as Estinien stomped away – not that I blamed him. More delays, and not the sort that would actually slow down the Dravanians; he had reason to be displeased. My mouth quirked as I watched him leap up onto a branch that overlooked the village.

Then I followed Ysayle and Alphinaud inside.

The information we got was – like so much else today – not what we were hoping for. Still, if bringing all this stuff will help us find out what we need to know...

Ysayle looked around, scowling. “Where is the dragoon?”

I pitched my voice to carry. “He's up a tree, imitating the song birds.”

I half smiled as I heard him land behind me. “You wouldn't like my singing,” he growled.

“Well, fortunately it's not song we're after,” Alphinaud said, and explained our task. Estinien's visor covered too much of his face for me to be sure, but I got the impression he was rolling his eyes.

Without a word, he turned and strode out of the village, loosening his lance. I exchanged a glance with Alphinaud and gave a little shake of my head, repressing a laugh. “I'll meet you back here in a while,” I said, and took off myself, following the stream.

We had gathered our gifts, and now simply had to wait. Alphinaud fretted, and for once it was Estinien who did the soothing.

Then, three creatures approached us. They were like the things that had attacked us the day before, and yet not. It took me a moment to realize that they weren't uniform, as the others had been. Each of them was decked in different colors and bizarre ornaments.

Once they started talking, all resemblance to the vicious Gnath vanished. They were positively garrulous, and very pleased with us. Alphinaud's face was a study in fascination as we followed them to their camp.

But once we had heard what the Gnath were up to, and why this motley collection of outcasts had chosen to leave their Hive...fascination was replaced with fury.

We stepped just outside their little camp, to discuss the situation.

Ysayle was frowning deeply. “I called upon the power of a primal for the greater good...but I was conscious all the while that I did so at grave cost to the land. I believed that it was a necessary evil, and willingly shouldered the burden of my sin.”

She eyed Alphinaud warily. “In suggesting that such crimes _can_ be justified, you may argue that I presume too much─but you must surely see that I am aware of the magnitude of my transgressions. Not so the Gnath. They summon their deity for no greater purpose than to expand their dominion.”

“To a Scion of the Seventh Dawn─one sworn to eliminate the primal threat─the distinction you draw seems questionable at best,” Alphinaud's sigh was resigned. “But the fact remains that my own grandfather risked unleashing the power of the Twelve in an attempt to prevent the Calamity. Thus, while I may not condone your actions, I at least understand them.” His jaw clenched. “ _Not so the Gnath_ , as you so rightly put it.”

His voice was hard as he continued. “If they truly seek naught but territorial gain, I can only conclude that they are ignorant of the ruinous consequences of their god's insatiable appetite. The longer this primal is suffered to exist, the greater the suffering it will cause. It _must_ be destroyed.”

Estinien drawled, “How lightly you propose the destruction of this god, Master Alphinaud─a being of whom we know naught. Has it occurred to you that you may be sending the Warrior of Light to her death?”

Alphinaud paled. “No, I...” He sighed. “You have the right of it, Estinien. It would seem it is I who am guilty of presuming too much. Pray forgive me, Berylla.”

I set my hand on his shoulder lightly. “I'm not afraid.”

Ysayle spoke up. “Berylla need not face this foe alone. Like her, I am blessed with the Echo's protection, and may do battle without fear of primal influence. Let me bear this burden.”

Estinien's laugh was derisive. “Do you truly imagine yourself a second Warrior of Light? Remind me: how many primals have you faced, my lady? Not that it matters─we know not where this god resides, or how to challenge it. Unless you mean to _pray_ until it appears?”

Ysayle bridled, and I glared at the dragoon as well, but Alphinaud nodded. “Estinien makes a valid point. Let us speak with the Vath, and learn how best to secure an audience with their deity. In this, at least, I may be of assistance.”

 _He may have a point, but he didn't have to be an asshole about it_. I traded glances with Ysayle. “We'll wait here,” I said.

Alphinaud strode over to talk to the Vath storyteller again. Estinien didn't follow him. I eyed him, but he only muttered under his breath, “The young lord certainly appears eager to prove his worth.”

I looked over at my friend, gesturing as he spoke. I'd never considered that he was trying to prove anything – except perhaps how much smarter he was than the rest of us.

It made sense, though. He had tried so very hard with the Braves, and if that had been an attempt to somehow prove himself – how much more that failure had to sting.

I put my thoughts away as he came back towards us.

“The Gnath are in truth a hive mind,” he began as soon as he was in earshot, “sharing a telepathic bond with each other. The Vath, on the other hand, are excluded from that bond.”

“So they don't know a thing, and we've wasted our time,” Estinien stated flatly.

“You are deaf as well as foolish,” Ysayle snapped. “Or you would have heard the storyteller inform Master Alphinaud that the fastest route to meeting their god is to become a sacrifice.”

Estinien's mouth tightened, and Alphinaud frowned. “I didn't want to bring that up. It seems a poor choice of plan.”

“If it is the only way, then we must take our chances,” I said firmly.

But Alphinaud wasn't done arguing. “Forgive me, but let us be clear about what it is that you propose. You mean to say that you would deliberately provoke the Gnath, surrender yourself into what might generously be termed their “custody,” and then wait until their god arrives to _claim your soul_?”

Ysayle nodded, tucking a wing of hair behind her ear, her expression serene. “Aye, that fairly well describes my plan. You will join me in this endeavor, will you not, Berylla?” Her pale lips curved in a small smile. “Judging by the great risks you took to prevent the summoning of Saint Shiva, you are not a woman to err on the side of caution.”

I had to laugh at that. “No, I am not.” I gave Alphinaud a challenging look. “I'm willing for this plan, and I really don't think we have the luxury of arguing about it.”

He crossed his arms, but shook his head in resignation.

“Then it is settled,” Ysayle said briskly. “Berylla and I shall challenge the guards at the entrance to the colony. Once the hive is roused, we shall feign a brief show of resistance, and then allow them to take us prisoner.”

She started walking, and I followed. Estinien took up a patient stance, clearly ready to wait right where he was for hours if need be.

But Alphinaud matched his steps to mine for a little.

“Estinien's words stung me more than I care to admit,” he told me quietly. “It would seem I have begun to take your victories for granted.”

“Well, I do keep succeeding beyond anyone's expectations,” I said lightly.

He shook his head a little, and put his hand on my arm. I paused, looking at him.

His cornflower-blue eyes were full of emotions, and I wished for a moment he'd actually say some of what he was clearly thinking, so that it could be out in the open between us.

But he merely said, “Do be cautious, my friend.”

So I just smiled, and put my hand over his, squeezing briefly. “I will. We'll return as swiftly as we can.”

Then I turned, and left him standing there.

The ant-men milled about in panic as their god dissipated into glowing motes of energy, and I dragged Ysayle to her feet. “Come on,” I grunted. “Come on, walk, damn it. We have to get the hell out of here.”

Wheezing in pain, she staggered beside me as I headed for the tunnel entrance I had seen. We stepped into the stream, icy water covering our ankles immediately, and waded away from the blue torches surrounded the entrance to the sacrificial chamber.

The tunnel was cramped – too small for us to go side by side. I pushed Ysayle ahead of me. “Go.”

Within ten feet, we had had to get on our hands and knees, crawling in the frigid water. I shivered, but not from the cold. I forced myself to breathe, in a long, slow rhythm, keeping the panic at bay.

The light ahead of me went out, and I froze in place, eyes widening. But then I realized that Ysayle had found the exit – the light had gone because her body blocked it as she struggled through the too-small opening. I heard her curse, and the sound of pebbles clattering, and then the light returned, like a blessing of sun on the water. I crawled forward quickly, and stretched towards that light.

 _Damn, am I going to fit? Gods, please_...

Pain blossomed in my skull. _Oh for – not now, not_ _ **now**_...

But the Echo didn't heed me. My sight went black.

A place of stars...

I looked around, frowning. The six crystals remained in their places – no longer surrounded by runes, no longer glowing with their lively colors, but merely hanging there, gray and dull and silent.

My throat burned. My chest ached. The pain flared into agony, and I bent double, my stomach heaving.

I vomited fire.

The energy poured out of me, burning its way up my throat. It pooled around my feet for but a moment, and then flowed sluggishly toward one of the crystals.

Groaning, I rested my hands on my knees, just trying to breathe through the haze of burning pain in my mouth and throat. The fiery energy touched the crystal.

I felt abruptly dizzy as reality tilted. The energy began to flow into the gray crystal, as if being poured in reverse. I could feel power shifting around me and within me. The crystal shuddered, and hissed like live steam, and the last of the fire that had come from inside of me vanished, its orange glow fading like embers.

I stared at the crystal. It vibrated, hummed, and then burst into flames.

The flames quickly settled into a warm glow. I smelled wood smoke, felt the warmth as if I stood before a roaring fireplace. The crystal was active once more.

“Berylla!!”

I woke, coughing and spitting. Ysayle rolled me onto my side, and I coughed again. Water dribbled out of my mouth.

“Gods, Berylla. You fainted – you nearly drowned!”

 _Yeah, because the gods have no fucking sense of timing_.

I curled up a little, shivering and snuffling. Ysayle knelt beside me, her eyes worried.

“What _happened_?”

I considered. “You know how the Echo will give you visions?” At her nod, I continued. “Yeah, it also has no manners whatsoever.”

She coughed, giggled, coughed again, and then began to laugh, until the tears came. I half smiled and let her work out her feelings. I wanted to cry too, but I was much too tired just now.

We sat on the riverbank, long enough for my clothes to dry and for our breathing to return to normal.

“Never since we first fought have I seen you draw upon the full extent of your power...and never from afar till this day. You were a marvel to behold, Berylla.”

I grunted. All I could feel was relief, but it was a relief I was ashamed to voice. My vision hadn't been untrue...but the figure in it hadn't been Alphinaud, as I had feared.

_It's unkind of you to prefer losing Ysayle to losing Alphinaud. It's not like she deserved to get hurt. She was doing the right thing. And she saved your stupid hide after you passed out face down in shallow water._

So I remained silent, until at last I could get to my feet and move without staggering.

She sighed as we turned our steps north. “Well...it is time we rejoined our companions. They will be eager to hear the tale...and to continue our journey.”

“I hope you can tolerate Estinien long enough,” I ventured.

She snorted. “I have no trouble tolerating him,” she said. “Until he opens his mouth.”

As we walked, I pondered the vision that had nearly killed me. _Does this mean that some of my power is coming back? Am I breaking a curse, here? What the hell just happened, for true?_

I had seen the crystals come to life once before – or more accurately, watched them wink into existence. One by one, as primals had fallen, I had claimed a new crystal, and when the sixth one had become mine...I had known that my Blessing was at full strength.

_So am I repairing something broken? If I should go and kill one of the other primals, would that also...recharge me? But no...no, that can't be right..._

I shook my head, baffled. _I have no idea how any of this works, and I'm betting not even the bet scholars know either. All I can do is trust in the Mother...and keep on going._

Alphinaud was the first to see us approaching. “Berylla! Lady Ysayle! Thank the Twelve!”

Estinien turned, and gave me a small bow. “The ant-men's god is fallen? Impressive, Warrior of Light.”

Ysayle sniffed, but didn't comment. Instead she told the two men of our foray and its result.

“Lord Ravana?” Alphinaud looked thoughtful. “Hm, how curious that the Vath never mentioned his name... And you are quite certain he will keep his word?”

“There was honor beneath his savagery,” Ysayle nodded firmly. “That we survived the encounter at all was a miracle─a miracle I must attribute to Berylla.”

Estinien grinned suddenly. “Never did I doubt you, Warrior of Light...unlike some. You were gone so long that Master Alphinaud here nigh lost his wits with worry. Fretting like a maid for her sweetheart, he was!”

Alphinaud's cheeks and ears both turned quite pink. “Estinien! Was that truly necessary!?”

Ysayle put a hand over her mouth, and I pressed my lips together, fighting laughter.

Estinien had no such compunction and laughed aloud. “Not truly necessary─but certainly _true_.”

Alphinaud straightened his coat, unnecessarily, and cleared his throat. His blushes didn't subside, but he tried to assume a more normal tone. “What matters is that the primal is banished, and our promise fulfilled. We should return to Vidofnir without delay. Come, now─we must make every moment count!”

He strode off toward the road, just short of breaking into a run. The rest of us followed after him at a more decorous pace.

Ysayle spoke, her voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “You are unkind, Estinien. For all his experience and intellect, Alphinaud is still but a boy.”

“He isn't so young as all that,” Estinien answered, still chuckling.

I grinned a little, and sped my steps to catch up to my friend.

“I wasn't really fretting,” he muttered as I fell into step beside him.

“Of course not,” I said mildly. “What reason to fret after all? Only waiting to find out if you'd sent the world's single most powerful defender off to get herself smashed to bits. No pressure at all, to think you might have to explain to Ser Aymeric and Haurchefant how you let me get myself killed.”

He cast a glance at me, and his voice dripped with sarcasm. “You're so understanding.”

“I know. It's one of my many talents.”

He snorted.

“Seems to me we've had this conversation before,” I said after a moment. “You've got to stop worrying so much about me, Alphinaud.”

“I thought you appreciated having someone worried for you.”

“Yes, but you could worry _less_.”

He looked away. “Would that I too possessed the Echo.”

I eyed him. “Your talents are just as valid as mine, Alphinaud. More so. Diplomatic solutions are always more effective than violent ones. People make a big deal about me, but all I do is kill things. That's no kind of legacy...”

“Do you think I _care_ about a legacy?” He shook his head. “I hate that you have to face so much alone. Maybe if I had something...more, something greater, I could stand beside you.”

I couldn't figure out what to say to that, and while I was still mulling it over, Ysayle and Estinien caught up to us.


	24. Cruel Truths

We had kept our word; the dragon kept hers. But her warnings were not empty – we had to fight for every yard of progress up the mountain.

The last dragon that barred our path was an inky-black female, three times as big as Vidofnir. If she hadn't been trying to murder us, I would have admired the gorgeous colors contained in her scales, the grace with which she moved - even among the amazing things I'd seen already from her kind, this was surely a queen among dragons. But for all her grace and speed she was no match for us. I stood panting, leaning on my axe, and felt the tiniest twinge of regret. I knew she had to be maddened by Nidhogg's rage and hatred, just as all the rest of his flight - but how I wished we could have found another way.

Pain blossomed in my chest, and I sagged to my knees, gasping - then toppled to the ground, my sight going dim.

The place of stars - once more, I was on my knees, surrounded by crystals - five cold and gray, one warm and flickering. I trembled as the taste of dust filled my mouth. But this time there was no retching, no pain. I twitched and shuddered, my breath coming in gasps as my flesh quaked. My muscles clenched and I bit my own tongue, the sharp copper taste of blood blooming in my mouth. I spat, and aether dripped from my mouth, golden and glowing.

The fluid seemed to coil, and then multiply, though I didn't feel as if I were still spitting, or even bleeding, now. But light nonetheless pooled under me for a brief moment, then flowed in a jagged line to one of the blank crystals. With a flare of light that made me wince, the crystal hummed - and came to life. I could hear rocks tumbling, and a ringing, hammering sound as if a hundred smiths beat upon a hundred anvils in a mighty cavern. I managed to get to my feet, and looked around in bemusement. Four gray crystals remained, but before me and behind me, now, two were awake once more.

"I do wish you'd have some warning before such things happen," Alphinaud fussed, as he applied stinging salve to my face. I'd hit a rock when I passed out this time.

I grunted. "Wish I had some warning, too," I mumbled. My tongue was swollen, and my cheek burned. A tear wound its way down, renewing the sting in the cut on my cheekbone. "Ow."

Alphinaud made a noise and blotted the water away. When he would have opened his tome and started a healing spell, I shifted away.

"Don't waste your energy on this," I told him, "it's stupid and minor. Come, we have to get out of here."

We hiked the last yalms to come out of a narrow tunnel at the very top of the mountain. Seeing what lay before us from that vantage, I forgot all my aches and pains: the view was almost a reward in itself.

I stood still, feeling balanced on a precipice. The mountain had been impressive, but this place was otherworldly...

I thought I had gotten used to the idea of flying rocks, back at Camp Cloudtop. The landscape here was rougher – more fragmented, in a very literal sense. Chunks of rock large enough to qualify as hills floated by at my eye level, as if they were merely flotsam carried on the surface of a stream. The wind didn't howl – it whispered, but its voice was ice.

Even in his new clothes, Alphinaud shivered. “It is said to be the highest mountain in all of Eorzea, you know.” He looked at me with a wry smile. “I thought it cold in Coerthas, but the air here carries the chill of a dozen winters...”

I nodded. “Even I'm noticing, trust me.”

I turned as I heard a groan from behind me. Estinien was on his knees.

“His fury...” He sounded as if he was going to be sick. “It bleeds through the Eye.”

I went to one knee beside him, as Ysayle watched. Alphinaud stood at my elbow, concern radiating from him.

Estinien gasped for breath, but his voice was steady as he spoke in Alphinaud's direction. “Fear not, I am yet my own master...”

I nodded, taking his word for it. I stood back up, and heard Ysayle whispering to herself. “We murdered his mate...adding another link to the chain of vengeance. Oh, Saint Shiva, when will it end?”

Estinien groaned once more as he levered himself to his feet. “The wyrm's lair is not far...” He took a deep breath. “Not far at all.”

Alphinaud's quick intake of breath got my attention. He was staring at something behind me.

I turned, and saw the little, white, furry creature floating about, humming to itself very softly.

Then it noticed us – and with a squeak, it fled.

“Was that a _moogle_?” Alphinaud asked, incredulous.

 _Oh, not moogles. Please gods, not moogles_.

There were moogles.

Ysayle thought them adorable. “Can I not find something adorable?” She'd demanded of me, when I grimaced at her. “My heart is not truly made of ice!”

 _No, but where these furry idiots are concerned, mine sure is_.

But the damned things had what we needed if we wanted an audience with mighty Hraesvelgr, the other great wyrm of this region...

I carried out the many and varied tasks I was set, without a word where the great, fat moogle “chief” could hear me. But out among the rocks and the monsters, I cursed freely and loudly. “Bloody – fucking – moogles!”

When I returned, and finally we were granted the use of the summoning horn, I kept my mouth firmly closed, and let Alphinaud's silver tongue smooth our way. Not even when we got back on the road could I entirely let go of my annoyance, for little Moghan – the very same moogle we'd startled at the beginning – insisted on escorting us.

“Must we have this creature as our guide? I would sooner flay the thing than follow it,” Estinien's voice was more of a growl as he spoke to me. I nodded in sympathy.

But Alphinaud accepted the moogle's help, and Ysayle looked very pleased about it. I sighed, resigned. _So long as it gets us on our way, damn it. Alphinaud's right, we've been gone too bloody damn long as it is._

_And now we have to wait anyway._ I sighed deeply as I followed Alphinaud – discreetly – while he gathered wood. I didn't mind; bashing in the heads of any monster that dared come close to my friend gave me an outlet for my frustrations.

But when the fire was crackling and the food simmering, when the night was closing in...something about the whole scene before me cooled my temper to nothing. Ysayle leaned against a stack of fallen stones; I lounged on the grass, leaning on my elbows. Alphinaud sat cross-legged to my right, and beyond him, cleaning his lance, sat Estinien. Even with the wind as ferocious as it was, the world seemed strangely at peace.

Alphinaud sighed, smiling a little. “Few things compare to the simple pleasure of sitting beside a crackling campfire of one's own making.”

Estinien laughed. “So speaks the “great explorer.” Until recently, you wouldn't have recognized firewood if it came with kindling and a flint.”

Alphinaud's tone was as sarcastic as the dragoon's. “Then it is well you instructed me so patiently! But yes, left to my own devices, I would have been compelled to signal to Ysayle with a pile of damp leaves.” He tossed a twig into the fire. “I was born the pampered son of a Sharlayan dignitary, and, alongside my twin, became the youngest student ever to be accepted into the Studium.” I smiled, thinking about how excited he and Alisaie must have been in those days.

“How proud I was to match wits with scholars and philosophers... How ignorant of mine own shortcomings.” His eyes darkened. “That hubris invited manipulation and betrayal...and led to the downfall of the Scions.”

I bit my lip, but it was Ysayle who spoke before I did.

“We all of us are guilty of similar ignorance. How many men lay down their lives, never knowing what it is that they fight for? Never questioning that which they have been taught to believe?” Her eyes remained on the fire, her tone thoughtful. “It was only upon meeting Hraesvelgr that I learned the truth hidden within our history. Were it not for that chance encounter, I would never have vowed to tear down the Holy See, and expunge the falsehoods with which it fans the flames of conflict. I would have lived and died in ignorance. That the truth has driven me to do terrible things, I cannot deny, but I would rather sin in the pursuit of peace than imagine myself virtuous for perpetuating a needless war.”

I glanced over at Estinien, expecting some kind of snappish remark, but he only continued his patient task, the cloth whispering across the bright steel of the lance-head.

“If this journey has taught me anything, it is the importance─and difficulty─of holding to one's convictions in the face of failure...of striving always to replace one's ignorance with knowledge.” Alphinaud tossed another twig into the flames.

“You are well on your way, Master Alphinaud. At your age, I was but a fool swinging a spear, with scarcely a thought in my head. Even now, I struggle to acknowledge the misconceptions under which I have labored.” Estinien set his lance aside, and gestured to the tumbled pillars around us. “Sitting here, among these grand ruins, how can I deny that man and dragon once lived in peace?”

I wondered if my jaw had dropped as far as Ysayle's had, at that remarkable statement.

The dragoon's voice was no longer sarcastic or ill-tempered as he continued. “But for all that such an age existed, we are now in a time of war. Nidhogg killed my family, and no quirk of history will exonerate him. I may be ignorant of how the Dragonsong War began, but if we do not put an end to this conflict now, I can say for a certainty that it will only breed more vengeful souls such as mine.”

Silence fell. I never thought about how he felt about all this. _Gods, to carry around so much hate, all the time. How much has it ground down his soul?_

When he spoke again, he sounded more like himself. “In my hands resides the power to vanquish a great wyrm. If Ishgard's survival rests on me wielding that power, I will slay Nidhogg myself...orders or no.”

Ysayle stiffened. “Estinien...you gave your word.” Her voice held no accusation, no disdain.

Estinien nodded. “My word is contingent upon the success of our parley. Show me the strength of _your_ convictions, Lady Iceheart. Convince Hraesvelgr of the righteousness of your cause.”

The brief moment of understanding evaporated. She lifted her chin proudly. “Do not doubt that I shall, dragoon.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched out for a few minutes. I sighed, and then sat up, rubbing my arms.

“This quiet makes me feel...odd,” I said.

“Oh?” Alphinaud cocked his head at me.

“It's a quiet that...wants to be filled.” I shrugged, embarrassed at my inability to articulate.

Moghan piped up, “Do you want to sing, kupo? Singing's pretty good for filling up the quiet.”

I eyed the little moogle thoughtfully. “Maybe...”

Estinien shook his head. “I wasn't joking. You would not care for my singing.”

Ysayle shrugged. “The few songs I know are hymns, of a sort. Nothing that would be appreciated in present company.”

Estinien ignored her sideways glance.

“You know a few tunes, don't you, Berylla?” Alphinaud said. “I seem to recall hearing about your exploits at the tavern back in Limsa.”

“That was quite a while ago,” I protested mildly. “But yes, I supposed of the four of us – pardon, five of us,” I corrected, when Moghan's fur ruffled, “I am the one who's a bit more musically inclined.”

“Sing us a song, then,” Alphinaud requested.

So, I did.

The great white dragon leaped into the air, finished with us.

His words had rung true, but the truth had destroyed at least one of us.

Ysayle stood like a statue. _To be told that your efforts have never meant a thing, that the being you thought you had connected with was merely a fantasy of your own mind's conjuring...to be shown that everything you've believed is false...Truth is too cruel._

With a small cry, she sank to her knees. “What manner of phantom have I welcomed into my heart...? Everything...gone...”

I wanted to reach out to her, but I couldn't.

“Leave her,” Estinien said, walking away. “Your words will not reach her now.”

None of us spoke as we descended to the grassy courtyard.

Finally, Alphinaud sighed deeply. “Hraesvelgr was every bit as awe-inspiring as I imagined. His voice fairly dripped with power─the will behind his words so undeniable that it transcended my ignorance of the dragons' tongue.” He sighed again, and sat down on a fallen section of pillar. He hung his head. “So far did we travel─even unto the very heavens themselves─only to be dismissed like unruly children. And far from mitigating this... _humiliation_ , the hidden truths we have learned serve only to prove that our grand mission of peace was destined to fail from the first.” His voice was dull with defeat. “Nothing will deter Nidhogg from his course.”

Estinien crossed his arms, his mouth tight. “As predicted, Iceheart's faith in the wyrm was misplaced. Which leaves us with but one recourse. You know I have the right of it, Warrior of Light.”

I frowned at him. He was right. We were going to have to try to kill Nidhogg.

But I cast my eyes back up towards the tower. _We weren't wrong to try. We weren't wrong to hope. I refuse to believe there is no way to ever end this senseless slaughter._

“Are you with me or not?”

I looked at him. “I don't like leaving her. If we return here, and she has taken her life...”

He shrugged. “Does it truly matter? We have not the time to worry for her, or to help her.”

“Are you truly that heartless?” I demanded.

“I am not without sympathy, but I _must_ protect Ishgard, and at this moment, the best way to do that is to find and slay that damned wyrm. Now are you with me, or not?”

“I'm going with you. But you're a real bastard, Estinien.”

He bowed, mockingly, and stalked away, down the road leading east.

Alphinaud stood up, and together we followed the dragoon.

Far above us, I imagined I could hear weeping.

I stared up at the impossible thing hovering in the sky above us. An island, and pieces of a structure – perhaps a castle, perhaps not. It was hard to tell, because the whole thing was swathed in purple clouds that flickered with constant lightning.

Alphinaud's voice was hushed with awe. “Is that it?”

Estinien's voice, by comparison, was taut, over-controlled. “Aye, that would be the Aery. I feel Nidhogg's presence through the Eye – his caustic hatred gnawing at my soul.” He pointed at the clouds. “The death of his consort has put him on his guard. Mark how he wards his lair with tempestuous winds.”

Alphinaud turned slowly to face him. “A similar barrier once barred our entrance to another lair...until we discovered the means by which it could be penetrated.”

I nodded, recalling how we'd broken down Garuda's tempests.

“Perhaps it is time we called on Master Garlond,” Alphinaud said. “It will be just like the good old days, no?” But there was no humor in his tone, and his face held only the same hard, cold determination it had since leaving Zenith.

We headed back to Ishgard, leaving Estinien to stand vigil. Alphinaud did a good job pretending to be casual as we figured out where to find Cid, but once we were speaking with our engineer friend, he dropped that pretense.

Cid scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Hm. The Enterprise could certainly take you where you need to go...but she would not fare well against dragons. She's agile for a ship her size─but not _that_ agile. The Dravanians would fly rings around her.” He shook his head. “And if they took it into their heads to incinerate the rigging, there would be precious little we could do to avoid them.”

He saw Alphinaud's stormy expression and raised his hand. “All right, all right. I didn't say it was impossible. I said it was impossible for the Enterprise. We need a smaller boat.”

He turned to call out to his assistants. “They've been working on a design that's nearly what you want, from the sound of it. I'm sure they'd be delighted to let you test some prototype models.”

Wedge and Biggs were indeed only too happy to help us – but there was one problem.

“We can't hurry the production too much without putting your life at risk, you know,” Wedge said earnestly. “It's just going to take as long as it takes to get these manacutters built.”

Alphinaud thanked them, and we took ourselves back to the manor for a short rest.


	25. Bitter Victories

Two days later, I sat beside a crackling fire in the hills of Coerthas. I'd left a message at Dragonhead for Haurchefant, then come here, to the little pocket valley. I set up my fire on the other side from the bath-hut; I knew the door was locked, and didn't intend to change that.

Instead, I shoved logs into a rough “couch,” and laid my bedroll out on them. Then I hauled out my cooking things, putting together a decent stew out of my supplies. The work was soothing. _I need soothing. To settle my mind._

I couldn't yet face returning to Ishgard itself. Not after what had happened in Uldah.

Footsteps crunched in the snow, and I looked up.

Haurchefant came around the rocks, and I smiled at him – and my smile only widened when I saw the four brown glass bottles, necks tied together, that he carried in one hand.

“You got my message.” I didn't bother hiding the relief I felt.

“Aye, that I did. I confess I was more than a little surprised.” He came over and sat beside me, leaning in to kiss my cheek before setting the bottles in the snow beside our seat. “The last thing I had heard was that you were haring off into Dravanian lands to try to stop the invasion...?”

“Gods.” I tugged my hair loose, and ran my fingers through it. “That seems like it was a month ago.”

As I stirred the stew, I told him about that journey, _very_ briefly, brushing past most of the things that happened. “We spoke with Hraesvelgr,” I concluded, “and learned some truths that none of us had been prepared to hear.”

I looked over at him. “I'd rather not get into it right now. It's...not comfortable to contemplate.”

He nodded.

“We left Estinien keeping watch, and came back to Ishgard to obtain some kind of aerial support – to not only fly, but to get past magical barriers. But such things – even already designed and partly built – take time.”

“Of course.”

“Then, before we'd done more than get our boots off back at the manor...we got a message from General Raubahn.”

The food was ready, and I served it up, digging in hungrily. As I ate, I told Haurchefant about all that we had learned. “More bitter truths,” I said. “Lolorito laid it all out for us. Gods, I hate that supercilious, smirking bastard. But what could we really do? The general accepted his words, and his antidote, and went to wake Nanamo.” I set my empty bowl to the side, lost in my memory for a moment.

_The general, standing like a statue as he listened to that smooth voice. Alphinaud, screened away from sight of the vile little Uldahn man, quivering with rage as he heard that his beloved Braves had been doomed before they even began. I could hear his teeth grinding._

_“Let us start again with a blank ledger, hm?” Even I ground my teeth at that careless phrase._

_Being unable to do more than stare after them all, as Raubahn accepted Lolorito's terms, and walked away. Being forced to listen to the Syndicate act as if everything was “business as usual.”_

_And then listening to Alphinaud declare his intent to disband the Braves, and give up on command. His words after that._

_“There is no woman alive in whom I would rather confide. Were it not for you, Berylla, I might never have emerged from beneath the pall of my despair.”_

Haurchefant's words brought me back to the present.

“Her Grace is well, then?”

“She will be. Lolorito claims he will clear Raubahn's good name...” I snorted. “He may even clear mine. Though nothing will ever erase what that son of a bitch did...I'm glad this is resolved. I don't think I'll ever be able to visit Uldah without...remembering.”

I shivered suddenly, and wrapped my arms around myself. The taste of stone dust filled my mouth.

“Berylla.” Haurchefant gathered me in his arms, and I hid my face in his neck.

“Sorry,” I sniffled.

“Sh, sh.” He stroked my back. “It's all right.”

After a few minutes, I was able to sit up again, and I let him go with another small sigh.

I cleaned up, and Haurchefant opened a bottle for each of us. Sipping, I asked him, “Is everyone at home all right?”

He didn't answer, for so long that I glanced at him. “Haurchefant?”

He was blinking fast. “Just a bit of smoke in my eyes.”

“Liar.” I turned toward him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” He pulled me into another hug. His breath was warm against my ear. “I was just...moved, to hear you call Ishgard home.”

He leaned back a little, and I slid down so that my head rested on his chest. The beer bottle was cool in my fingers as I toyed with it a little, staring into the flames.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, love.”

“Tell me about your mother.” He stiffened, and I back-pedaled. “I'm sorry – you don't have to if you don't want to.”

“No, I don't mind...” He took a breath. “You just surprised me.”

He spoke slowly, petting my hair a little.

“She died when I was very small, you understand. So I don't remember a great deal about her...only that she was gentle, and very beautiful.”

“What...what happened to her?”

“Father always told me that she fell ill.” He sighed. “But Lady Fortemps – my step-mother, that is – told me otherwise. She told me that my mother poisoned herself.”

“Oh, gods...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something so painful.”

“You couldn't have known. It's all right.” He stroked my hair, and asked, “What about you? What were your parents like?”

I swallowed and sat up, hugging my knees. “I don't remember.”

He sat up too, matching my pose, laying his head on his knees to look over at me. “Not at all?”

“Nothing.” My voice tightened. “I just...woke up standing in the middle of nowhere. I've tried to look for records, tried to search what memories I have, but...there's nothing. Every past that I can recall, I'm already...”

 _Already alone, already at war, already fighting for Hydaelyn_.

Haurchefant slid his arm around my shoulders. “Berylla...”

“You – your family – I've never had so many people who cared about me like that.” I rested my chin on my arms. “Your father called me dear once, did you know? And your brothers...are brothers supposed to be so annoying?”

He laughed a little. “Many people would say that they are.”

“I said once that Alphinaud is like a brother to me. Now I'm not so sure.”

“He loves you. Very much.”

“Yes. I know.” Alphinaud was willing to accept my calling him a brother in arms. But I knew that he wanted more than that.

“He's too young,” I said, half to myself.

“Don't you dare try to tell me he only has a crush on you.”

“What else _can_ I say? I'm no cradle robber, Haurchefant!”

“He's not a babe in arms,” Haurchefant pointed out, stubbornly. “But for the sake of argument, let's say you wait until he's older – what, then?”

“I can't even imagine.” I sighed and put my forehead on my arms, hiding my eyes. “And let's be honest, Haurchefant, I'll likely be dead by then.”

“Don't talk like that, Berylla.”

I held my head in my hands. “I have no past. I have no future. All I have is now, the present, the fight. I'm not made for...for _life_ , Haurchefant. One way or another, I'll always end up alone.”

He pulled at me, leaning back again, and tugging me into a position where my head lay on his leg. He petted my hair, and spoke slowly. “You don't have to be miserable. You can love, and be loved.”

“That's why you're so important to me, you know. It's why I ran to you when Moenbryda died. You're all I have. And now...with so many of the Scions...gone...” I swallowed hard against the tears. “I treasure you more than ever.”

“I'm not _all_ you have, love.” His voice was tender. “You're much too strong to depend on just me. Don't under-value that. You have Alphinaud, and Tataru, and still others. You have allies, and partners, and friends...”

“The only time I don't feel alone is with you.”

“No, that's not true, my love.” He pulled me up and held me close. “I won't let you pin all your emotional hopes on me.”

“I haven't slept with anyone else since the last time I was with you,” I sighed. “I know _you_ have. I'm not mad about it or anything. But I just...I can't. There's no one else who...”

“What, not even Aymeric?” Haurchefant teased. “He'll be heart broken if he finds out.”

“Oh...” I pushed away. “He might have flirted with me, but...”

He was grinning at me.

“What?” I eyed him suspiciously.

“I think that you'll discover, once you find time, that he's a very patient man. He makes up his mind, and he doesn't give up on his goal.”

“I find it hard to believe that I'm any sort of goal for someone like him.”

“I suppose you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you?”

“You're a scoundrel, Haurchefant.”

“Thank you, love.”

I finished my beer, and he gave me another. “Only two,” he told me, laughing.

“So then,” Haurchefant said, when I was half done with that second bottle. “Did Master Alphinaud not return to Ishgard? I perceive he is not with you.”

“No. He's at the Toll, for tonight.”

“Oh?”

“He...” I took a swallow of beer, forcing the tears back. “He decided to disband the Braves, you see. What was left of them...”

The Rising Stones were too quiet. “Before I return to Ishgard, I must go to the Rising Stones and thank these stalwarts for their service. It shall be my final act as Crystal Brave commander,” Alphinaud had told me. Then he had met my eyes, with uncertainty in his own. “Will you join me, Forename? You were there at the company's inception. It's only fitting that you be present at its end.”

I hadn't been able to answer for a moment, and he had swallowed hard. “And...I would appreciate the support.”

“Of course I will come with you. I wouldn't leave you to do this alone, Alphinaud.”

But the Stones were so quiet.

“Commander!” The remnant of the proud company gathered around him, smiling, reaching out to him. Standing at his side, I watched his eyes grow damp.

“My splendid Crystal Braves.” He scanned their faces. “I have wronged you. All of you. My promises of glory and salvation have brought you naught but blood and betrayal.”

Riol, standing closest, shook his head. “You won't hear us complainin'. Messier than expected, aye, but we was still fightin' for the freedom of all─just like we swore. Ain't that right, mates?” The gathered Braves all nodded, crying “Aye!” in a chorus.

“You humble me. I am truly blessed to have such steadfast comrades. It is with the most profound regret, then, that I must...”

But Riol held up both hands, cutting Alphinaud off. “That's enough o' that, Commander! We know what you've a mind to say, an' we ain't havin' none of it.”

Alphinaud's mouth dropped open. Riol gestured to the rest of the Braves.

“We've talked it over, see, an' we're all agreed: you can take our uniforms, an' strip us of our ranks─but we won't be no less of a company.”

“B-but...”

Alianne spoke up from further back in the group. “The Crystal Braves may be finished, but the ideals upon which the company was founded live on. They bind us to each other─and to you.”

Riol nodded firmly. “Commander – _Alphinaud_. Our minds are made up, so you may as well get used to it. Let us help the Scions. Let us help you find Minfilia an' the others.”

“My friends...a-after all that has happened...”

“After all that's happened,” Riol declared, “now's the time to have a drink.”

The whole group cheered at that, and dispersed, gathering up cups and bottles from all around the room. Alphinaud watched them, then bent his head. His hands curled into fists, and his shoulders shook.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and he shook his head, scattering tears from his cheeks with his fingers. “I had thought my tears spent,” he murmured.

“These are the better sort of tears, I think.”

“Yes...My grandfather used to say that one could measure a man by the constancy of his comrades... Maybe I am the exception which proves the rule. Nay, do not protest. I know that I am not worthy of their loyalty, Berylla.” He set his hand on mine, squeezing gently before removing it. “But as Thaliak is my witness, I shall do everything in my power to earn it.”

Riol beckoned to him from across the room, and I smiled. “I think your presence is required.”

He looked up at me. “You're not joining...?”

I shook my head. “Not this time. I want you to enjoy this, Alphinaud. If I stay, I won't be very good company. Don't worry. I'll meet you in Ishgard tomorrow. But for tonight...” I smiled a little, trying to reassure him. “I need to be alone.”

“I didn't want to say it to Alphinaud,” I sighed, finishing my beer. “But there are just too many ghosts there for me.”

“Things are improving,” Haurchefant pointed out.

“They are. But right now, all the victories we've won are...bitter.”

“And so you came here.”

“And so I came here,” I nodded.

“Why not ask for a room in the keep?”

“Too tempting.” I looked away. “I'll nap a little here, then start for Ishgard. If I arrive after midnight, I won't have to speak to anyone.”

“Stay the night, Berylla.”

I pulled at my hair a little, and he put his hand out and captured my wrist. I met his gaze.

He set down his bottle of beer, and took my other hand in his. “Come here.”

As he tugged gently, I leaned closer. He set my hands against his chest, and wrapped his arms around me, tucking my head under his chin. “If you won't stay in a bed, then I'll stay here with you,” he said softly.

“Still too tempting,” I murmured, drinking in the scent of him. “I ought to be alone.”

“You're nearly asleep, my dear.” He kissed my hair. “And to be alone is the last thing you need.”

He lay down with me, tucking me against him. I cuddled up, crossing my arms to keep my hands to myself. He tugged at the bedroll, pulling it up over us. Sheltered in his arms, the bitter tension seeped out of me, and eventually, I slept.


	26. Sins Not Forgotten

I walked into the workshop late the next morning, and Cid greeted me with a surprised smile. “Berylla! How in the seven hells do you do it? I was just about to send for you! We have but this moment completed the manacutter's first successful test flight!” He gestured with his thumb to the screened off area in the corner, where I could hear Wedge muttering. “A few minor adjustments and she'll be ready to go. While we see to the finishing touches, you might want to pay a visit to Fortemps Manor─a dragoon by the name of Estinien was looking for you.”

_Oh, really?_

“All right,” I nodded. “Send word when you're ready.” I smiled at him. “And thanks for pulling another miracle out of your tool belt.”

He laughed and waved me away.

Estinien was standing in the sitting room, his black armor looking strange among the opulent surroundings. But he seemed pleased enough to see me. “Mistress Tataru has been keeping me apprised of the situation. Once I learned that these “manacutters” of Master Garlond's were nearing completion, I saw no reason to tarry in the Mists.” He shrugged a little, armor creaking. “For the present, Nidhogg seems content to remain in the Aery, plotting his revenge.”

I nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Might not this be an apt moment to unfold our plans to Ser Aymeric? I think we have kept him in the dark long enough.” He didn't wait for me to agree, and walked off.

I sighed. _Still an asshole, but what else was I expecting?_ I followed after him.

Alphinaud met us just after we arrived to speak with the Lord Commander. We three stood in Aymeric's office once more, and I struggled with a sense that time was moving in strange ways. It had been less than a week, and yet I felt as if a year or more had passed. _So many revelations. So many changes...and more are looming over us. I feel it._

“All stands ready, Lord Commander,” Estinien told Aymeric.

Aymeric folded his arms. “You took an unimaginable risk. I could scarce believe the tale Estinien told.”

 _Obviously, Estinien decided not to wait for us, to tell Aymeric everything_.

“If we had not slain Nidhogg's consort, the Dravanians would have arrived at Ishgard's gates long ago,” the dragoon pointed out, when Alphinaud commented on how poorly our talk with Hraesvelgr had ended.

Aymeric nodded. “Aye, that they would. Full grateful am I for every hour of respite your actions have afforded us. Thanks to you, our defenses are much improved. It is a pity they won't be enough.”

“And that is why Estinien is assaulting the Aery,” Alphinaud told him.

“With the Eye in my possession, I can stifle Nidhogg's strength somewhat.” Estinien nodded to me. “But I will be glad to have the Warrior of Light at my side. Victory will not be assured.”

Aymeric's eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. He stood up, startling all of us a little.

“You shall have my blade as well,” he declared. “There are more of these manacutters to be had, yes?”

Lucia put out her hand. “Lord Commander, no!”

Aymeric rounded on her. “How can I, a proud knight of Ishgard, stand by and do _nothing_ while an outsider risks life and limb for our homeland? I swore an oath to protect this city!”

The frustration in his voice struck an echo with my own, deep frustrations. _So many promises broken_. Oh yes, I knew how he felt. But I saw in Lucia's eyes the reality of the matter.

But it was Estinien who shot Aymeric down. “Pray leave the slaying of dragons to dragoons, sir knight,” he drawled, sardonic as ever.

Then even that black humor drained away from his tone. “Your duty to command the city's defense is no less vital. Should we fail, and Nidhogg slip through our grasp, who, then, will hold the walls against him? Will you leave Ishgard in the hands of the Holy See's zealots?”

“There are others.” Aymeric wasn't backing down so easily. But Estinien was relentless.

“Who but you has the authority and the standing to orchestrate a citywide defense? I do not, and neither does the Warrior of Light. That is why it is our place to fight, and yours to remain here, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric looked away for a moment.

I had been aware of Alphinaud's growing agitation – once again, he nearly vibrated with emotion. So unlike Estinien, I was not surprised when he opened his mouth, his expression determined.

But he never got a word out, before Estinien turned on him. “What, you too, Master Alphinaud? By the Fury! You have shown some promise, but _this_ adversary is far beyond your skills.”

Alphinaud turned to face him, and crossed his arms. He didn't speak, just stared at the black clad dragoon.

For a moment, he was almost impressive.

But all of his stubbornness was no use against the steel of Estinien's will, and after a tense moment, he sighed, and shrugged, conceding the point. “Your candor is appreciated,” he said, his tone icy and formal. “I shall remain then, and cheer you from afar.”

Estinien raised his head to look in my direction. “It seems that I have now discouraged the last of the volunteers. But if any alive can best this wyrm, surely it is we two!”

Twenty minutes later, I stood beside Estinien, waiting for the manacutters to be brought out.

“I have pricked Master Alphinaud's pride I fear. But had I been less forceful, the boy would have insisted on accompanying us to the Aery.”

I nodded, and he bent his head. His voice was softer as he continued. “Do not think me blind to his talent. With a few more campaigns under his belt, I have no doubt that Alphinaud will make a fine field commander...But one does not _practice_ on an adversary such as Nidhogg.”

 _I suppose, coming from you, that's a high compliment_. I shrugged. I wasn't angry about Estinien persuading Alphinaud to stay, but I also had very little to say. It was time to murder things, not to talk.

Nidhogg fell from the skies, and Estinien plummeted to the ground, not four yards from me, his armor stained with the dragon's life-blood. He held aloft the eye he had prized from the wyrm's skull, and as the gruesome thing crackled with power in his hand, I felt my chest tighten and my head begin to pound. I went to one knee, clenching my teeth. But even through the pain I was glad that this time the Echo hadn't dragged me under while I was piloting the manacutter or the like...

I opened my eyes, already knowing where I would be, already knowing I would see four gray crystals, two glowing ones.

But I wasn't prepared for the flash of light that went through me. I stiffened, my mouth open in a soundless scream, as lightnings pierced my body.

I fell on my face, flopping like a fish as the power poured through me, crackling along the invisible “floor” that held me and the circle of crystals. How long I lay there I couldn't have said, with my nerves on fire and my muscles twitching and cramping.

But the power left me, and with it the pain. I levered myself up to be on hands and knees, shivering with reaction, and looked at the third, now active, crystal.

_If I have to endure this kind of thing every time, I might just give up entirely on this job. Gods, that hurt._

And then – the place of stars faded into nothing, and was replaced by a scene from an ancient past...

I woke lying on my back, with Estinien on one knee beside me. “What ails you?”

I coughed, and managed to sit up. “Ugh,” I groaned. “Sometimes, being what I am really fucking sucks.” Then I sighed a little. Rubbing my temples with my fingers, I answered him. “That, Estinien, is what happens to me when the Echo takes me.”

“You fainted.”

“I was being granted a vision,” I shrugged. “Presumably it requires my soul to leave my body for a time. Don't ask, I don't know why either.”

“And what sort of vision, if I might ask that much?”

My lips twisted as I related what I had seen. The Knights Twelve and their defeat of Nidhogg; the way they'd divvied up Ishgard among themselves...and the ones who'd opted to have no part in that plan. “They took both of the dragon's eyes,” I said slowly. “But...only one of them made it to Ishgard. Wonder what that's about?”

“I suppose we'll just have to ask,” Estinien said simply. “For the eye that I claimed from Nidhogg was not his own.”

“Huh?”

“I know well the properties of Nidhogg's Eye, and the feel of his aether. This second Eye that I now carry is _not_ from the same dragon. I suspect it belongs to another great wyrm...”

He got to his feet, groaning a little, and offered me his hand. “Come, let us quit this accursed place. I want no more to do with Nidhogg's brood this day.”

We alighted on the ground below the Aery, and I eyed Estinien. “Are you going to be all right?”

He spoke, his voice more weary than I had ever heard it before. “Though Nidhogg is fallen, my heart is yet heavy.” He grimaced down at his armor, no longer black, but crimson as fresh blood. “...And this stain of corruption pleases me not.”

He looked over at me, and tried to assume his usual sardonic tone. “When all has been put to rest, I must needs forge my armor anew.”

I only nodded. “We need more answers,” I said quietly.

“With Nidhogg fallen, none save Hraesvelgr remains to answer our questions. Let us trouble the wyrm again. And if Iceheart yet lingers at Zenith, all the better. I would have her hear the truth from the dragon's maw.” Estinien lifted his manacutter and started flying south.

We arrived at the tower, landing our manacutters at one end of the platform. Ysayle knelt, as if in prayer, her hair whipping in the rising wind. Estinien's mouth opened, and then he closed his lips, frowning. “She has scarce moved since last we parted. Hmph. Hraesvelgr's confession will soon shake her from her stupor.”

This time, I knew his gruff words covered real concern. So I said nothing, though I rather wanted to slap him, and simply walked towards the kneeling woman.

She raised her head as we approached. Seeing Estinien, she stood. “It was you, was it not? The furious screams of the dragons carried far.” Her face twisted. “You have slain Nidhogg─what more could you desire from this place? Will you not allow Hraesvelgr to mourn the death of his kin in peace!?”

Estinien's voice was hard. “Spare us your sanctimonious judgment, ice maiden. We have a _gift_ for the great wyrm...and a mystery that can no longer lie buried.”

He came to stand mere inches from her. “Lady Iceheart─the Dragonsong War has all but consumed your life and claimed many of your followers. It is time you learned the truth of its beginning─the _whole_ truth─that we may at last bring this bitter conflict to an end.”

She stepped back a half pace, one hand raised to her chest, eyes wide.

Estinien turned to me. “Sound the horn, Warrior of Light!”

Once again, Hraesvelgr flew away into the clouds. I watched him go, my heart aching. _He just wants to be left alone with his pain. And yet_...

Estinien spoke, and for the first time since I'd met him, he sounded sad.

“It was my life's goal to slay Nidhogg, but I find there is little joy to be had in its accomplishment.”

Ysayle lowered her face from staring at the sky. Her cheeks were wet, but her voice was steady. “You have rid the world of a hate-filled creature,” she said gently. “And ended a bloody war in so doing.”

“I lost my family to Nidhogg's flames. It was with fury in my heart that I took up the lance. Every blow I struck, I struck in the name of vengeance. We were not so different, he and I.”

She hung her head. “I will not judge you for your deeds. I have not the right. Too many innocents have perished in the name of my own cause.”

I kept quiet, not wanting to end this fragile moment of peace between two people who, only days ago, would gladly have murdered one another.

Estinien folded his arms, and spoke as if thinking aloud. “Yet the tale is incomplete...”

I cocked my head at him in question.

“We are short a great wyrm's eye,” he explained. “Of the pair which once belonged to Nidhogg, only one is known to us – the one I bear. What, then, became of the other?” His voice sharpened. “Why did Nidhogg, who had taken such pains to _prolong_ the Dragonsong War, suddenly decided to hurl his entire army against the walls of Ishgard?”

Abruptly, a link-pearl chimed. I blinked, and glanced at Estinien. He set a hand to his helm “Lord Commander.” He nodded slightly. “Yes, the deed is done. Nidhogg is slain.”

He listened for a moment, and then snarled. “ _What?_ In the _city_? A battle with whom?!”

I exchanged alarmed looks with Ysayle.

“At once, Lord Commander,” Estinien said. “Hold firm until our return!”

He looked at us both, his voice filled with urgency.

“Fighting has broken out in the city. Lord Aymeric was sparse with the particulars, but it seems some commoners threw open the gates to a force of heretics.”

Ysayle shook her head in disbelief. “I gave no order to attack!”

“Maybe Hraesvelgr was right about us,” Estinien muttered. Then he straightened. “Let us away. The people must be saved from themselves.”

“I would come with you!” Ysayle said, putting her hand out to us as we turned. “There has been enough violence. I will appeal to my people in the city, and make them see reason!”

I nodded at once, but Estinien paused. Then, I saw his lips curve in the tiniest of smiles.

“Come, then, Lady Iceheart.” For the first time, he addressed her without sarcasm or scorn. “Let us write the final chapter in this damnable war.”

I watched Ysayle calm her people, and lead them away. Haurchefant was brimming with questions, and I wanted nothing more than to return with him to Fortemps manor and explain it all to him – in all the detail he and his father could want.

“I will bring Ser Aymeric to the manor,” Estinien told us, and marched off. Haurchefant grinned at me, and gave me a quick, one armed hug. “The most unlikely alliance,” he repeated, still astonished at that barest hint of what we had been through.

The streets still had pockets where flames burned, but knights and citizens alike had everything well in hand. There were no more screams of panic and agony; the wounded lay on the ground, quietly, as priests and other healers moved among them. Still, even though we wasted no time getting back, Aymeric and Estinien were there before us.

In the sitting room, Count Edmont greeted us first. “Praise Halone, you are safe!” His voice trembled slightly, and I realized he was looking at me, not his son. I realized that the Count had gone without news even longer than Aymeric had. I resolved to sit down with him, as soon as I could, and tell him anything he wanted to know about my recent adventures.

Aymeric, with Lucia behind him, stood to the Count's left; Estinien to his right. Alphinaud's eyes swept across me once – checking to make sure I had all my limbs, perhaps – before he lapsed back into a pose of polite attention, standing just in front of Estinien.

Haurchefant began by telling what he knew of our arrival in the city, and Ysayle's actions.

“The infamous Lady Iceheart, here in Ishgard? This is most unexpected,” the Count mused, with a ripple of laughter to his words.

Aymeric nodded. “She has done much to quell the violence. The Inquisition may not approve, but we are glad of her presence.” _He means the Temple Knights_ , I thought. _He should have seen the ones who were with Haurchefant. “Pleased” is not the word I would have used._ Still, I knew the Knights would listen to their Commander's words.

I continued the explanations, outlining all that we had done and learned in the Mists.

The Count nodded. “With the great wyrm's demise, even the most reactionary sorts will have scant grounds to insist on Iceheart's immediate capture.”

But Alphinaud spoke with worry. “What of the truth revealed to us by Hraesvelgr? That the origins of the Dragonsong War are quite unlike those depicted in the scriptures.”

Aymeric considered that. “Men and dragons once lived in harmony...and it was man's treachery which shattered the peace, and plunged our peoples into war.” He fell silent, thinking hard.

The Count sighed. “The same scripture also describes the origins of the High Houses. Were it exposed as false, the legitimacy of our rule would be called into question.”

 _Meaning that at least two of the High Houses would be most strenuously opposed to any such exposure._ My head began to ache at the prospect of facing yet more tangled politics.

Aymeric spoke then, and his voice was harsh with suppressed anger.

“If the Holy See knew of this and chose to remain silent, their crimes are grievous indeed. Regardless, this state of affairs _cannot_ be allowed to continue.”

Everyone looked at each other, and an uncomfortable silence stretched out. I gazed at Aymeric, wondering if he really meant what I thought he meant.

Count Edmont was the first to speak. “Ser Aymeric, you cannot mean to raise this matter with the Archbishop!”

Haurchefant's eyes were worried. “Pray consider what you are proposing! If the Holy See chose to conceal the truth for centuries, what reason would they have to reveal it now?”

“At best,” Alphinaud added, frowning, “you will branded a heretic and clapped in irons!”

Aymeric bowed his head a moment, then met Alphinaud's gaze. “Then at least,” he said grimly, “The archbishop will have shown his true colors.” He looked around at all of us. “My friends, this war will never truly be at an end until the truth is made known.” His eyes met Haurchefant's, then the Count's. “You must see what lies on the horizon if it is not. When ruled by fear of a common enemy, we were united. During the war, the highborn needed men to lead, and the lowborn, men to follow.” He made a chopping motion with his hands. “Not anymore. It is but a matter of time before the old order is called into question.” His voice gained intensity as he continued.

“Lady Iceheart will share the truth with her followers, and the Holy See will be powerless to stop its spread. The disenfranchised will rise up, and blood will flow in the streets once more.”

I shuddered. He painted a picture of nothing less than civil war.

Aymeric walked toward the doors, and paused just before entering the hallway. He spoke without facing us. “A divided Ishgard will not survive.”

And then he was gone.

Lucia looked like she was on the edge of tears. “Tread carefully, Lord Commander,” she whispered.

Alphinaud turned to her. “Is it wise to let him go?” he asked. “I sympathize with the lord commander's desire for reform, but to approach the archbishop in this manner bespeaks an idealism to which I did not think Ser Aymeric prone.”

She was silent for a long moment, before she turned her gaze on us all. Her mouth tightened. “We must not think of ways to hinder his cause, but rather ways to aid it – even should the Holy See cry heresy.”

Alphinaud looked shocked. “You cannot mean...”

Lucia faced him squarely. “If the lord commander does not return from the Vault, I mean to go and fetch him.”

Count Edmont frowned at her. “Have care, my lady. Your words border on treason. Should they reach the wrong ears, you would be declared an enemy of Ishgard!”

I already knew what her answer would be, before her mouth even opened. _Apparently, Haurchefant has never told his father that Lucia isn't for Ishgard._

“That is a risk I am willing to take.” Her eyes were hard. “Lest you forget, my lord – I am not born of this land. My loyalty is to the lord commander alone.”

Then, she took a deep breath, and her demeanor softened just a little. “But I speak only of what may come to pass. If the rumors regarding his heritage are to be believed, we have nothing to fear.”

To my surprise, the Count looked away, his expression uncomfortable.

Estinien snorted, and folded his arms. “Lies and slander.”

Alphinaud looked between the two men. “Forgive me...what rumors are these?”

Neither man seemed inclined to answer, but Lucia spoke with brutal frankness. “That Ser Aymeric is the archbishop's bastard son.”

 _Oho! No wonder. Bastards are a touchy subject in this house_. I looked to Haurchefant. His silver eyes met mine, and he gave me the tiniest nod. _So it's true_.

“Ser Aymeric is truly the archbishop's son?” Alphinaud was astonished.

“He has never been publicly acknowledged as such, but the rumors have plagued him since childhood,” Lucia nodded. Her voice warmed with pride. “That he rose to his current position, despite being despised as a bastard, and accused of profiting from his father's influence, bespeaks the quality of his character.”

Something clicked into place in my mind. I remembered when she'd raged at me, that morning at Dragonhead. _“You know nothing about him,”_ she'd told me.

 _I should have understood then, that she wasn't merely being a protective bodyguard. Gods, I'm a damn fool. Lucia isn't just loyal...she's_ _**in love** _ _with Aymeric._

But she was continuing. “It is my hope that on this occasion, the burden of his birth will work in his favor. Should our worst fears be realized, the archbishop will not be so quick to execute his own flesh and blood, affording us time to mount a rescue.”

“Bastard or true-born, he is our nation's best hope.” Estinien clenched one fist. “If the Holy See dares to threaten him, I shall lead the charge against the Vault myself.”

Haurchefant's eyes blazed. “Hear, hear! The future of Ishgard rests on Ser Aymeric's shoulders! I too will do my utmost to aid his cause!”

At _that_ , Count Edmont turned his head to stare at his son. “Haurchefant, be reasonable,” he protested.

 _His bastard son...for whom he cares more than both his true-born children_. I could see the fear in the Count's eyes, though his expression remained stern.

Haurchefant faced his father, head high. “A knight lives to serve, Father – to aid those in need! The people need Ser Aymeric – more than ever – and we may be his only hope!”

He lifted his hands, pleading for his father to understand. “There is no greater calling for a knight than the save the life of his fellow man. I swear you, on the sigil of our house, that I shall do this and make you proud.”

 _Oh, Haurchefant. You miracle of a man. You fool. He already is proud of you_...

But I couldn't do less, in the face of so many passionate declarations, than to turn to the Count myself, and nod. “I, too, will aid Ser Aymeric, should he require it.”

He regarded me as if I'd lost my mind. “Even you?” Then, suddenly, he sighed. His voice trembled with something between laughter and tears as he spoke.

“Romantic, reckless fools, the lot of you. So be it. Make your preparations.”


	27. No Greater Love

I threw open the doors that led onto the high platform, and saw to my dismay that the archbishop was about to step onto an airship. He didn't even turn as the doors banged open, and the Knight who was escorting him only paused long enough to glance over his shoulder at me, as if I mattered to him less than the doves fluttering about the spires.

Aymeric came up behind me, limping heavily, still clutching his arm. Just behind him were Haurchefant and Estinien, and bringing up the rear, Lucia. Haurchefant kept himself on Aymeric's right side, ready to lend his shoulder the moment it was needed.

Aymeric staggered forward, to stand just in front of me, his voice sounding raw with more than mere physical pain. “Father! Please!”

Haurchefant murmured to me, “We were not too late, thank the Fury.” But I saw in his eyes that the scene had been ugly indeed. I glanced at Aymeric. _He must be in a huge amount of pain, but he keeps going anyway_. _They were torturing him, and he still persists in trying to reason with these madmen_...

“Why must you do this, Father?!” Desperately, the words tumbled from Aymeric's lips. “Nidhogg is fallen! There is no need for further deception! Now is the time to renounce the lies which led us down this path – to start anew!”

The archbishop didn't move. Even his robes seemed to defy the wind that whistled across the high platform. His voice carried on that wind, even though he did not turn to face us.

“And tear down the very pillars of our society – our history, our values – everything we have built for over a thousand years?” His shoulders lifted, and lowered – a theatrically exaggerated sigh. “A fool to the last.”

Haurchefant met my eyes. He nodded slightly, and I nodded back.

_You're not leaving here, old man. You're going to answer for what you've done._

Together, we ran forward.

Halfway to the end of the platform, Haurchefant suddenly shouted to me. “Look out!”

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. I spun, only to see Haurchefant take up a stance in front of me, his shield raised – a stance I'd seen him use before, months ago, to protect his men from a wyvern's flames.

But this attack was no mere bit of fire spewed up by a relatively small dragon.

The spear of pure force crackled ominously, and when it struck Haurchefant's shield, it spit sparks and sounded like lightning – but lightning that stayed in one place, and didn't fade. The smell of ozone and scorched metal filled the air as Haurchefant strained to hold the spear at bay.

I felt frozen in place – my body refusing to respond, my mind screaming in panic.

_He can't hold out against that thing!_

With a horrible shriek of tortured metal, Haurchefant's shield cracked, and he staggered, then thrust himself forward once more. “No,” I heard him growl, “You won't take her!”

As if answering him, the spear crackled and pulsed – and burst through his shield.

The lance of light struck him squarely, and passed _through_ his body. He seemed to hang in air a moment, transfixed, and then the light and the crackling noise faded to nothing.

Haurchefant gasped, and blood spattered the stones. He toppled backwards, his silver hair splaying across my feet, his shield clattering and skidding across the ground.

“No...” I sank to my knees, ignoring the archbishop, who had calmly boarded his gilded airship. I heard him speak, but did not heed his words.

Estinien and Lucia ran forward. Aymeric staggered after them, his voice breaking. “Lord Haurchefant!”

The airship lifted off, and circled once, as Aymeric reached us and fell to his knees. With his good arm, he tenderly lifted Haurchefant a little way.

The wound yet glowed with eldritch power. Haurchefant still drew breath...but the blood on his lips and his labored gasps told me that his time was measured in moments.

He raised his head, and looked at me. His silver eyes were clouded with pain, but somehow, a smile curved his bloodied lips.

“You are unharmed?” he whispered.

I nodded, still too shocked to speak, and took his hand in mine.

“F-forgive me...I could not bear the thought of...”

 _No...no,_ _ **no**_... I pressed his palm to my face. Words pressed at my lips but I couldn't speak.

“Oh...” His fingers curved, cupping my cheek. “Do not look at me so.” He gasped a little, and stroked his thumb across my lips. “A smile...better suits a hero...”

I forced my mouth into a curve, even though every fiber of me screamed against it. My cheeks ached as I held that smile for him.

He smiled at me then, the same loving smile he'd given me so many times before.

Then he sighed, and the light faded from his eyes. His head fell back, and he moved no more.

They carried him away. No one spoke. They didn't look at me, and I was glad of it.

_**I'm** _ _supposed to take the risks._ _**I'm** _ _supposed to fling myself into danger to save a life. No one is supposed to die for me..._

We had failed. Failed to stop the archbishop from carrying out whatever insane plan he had concocted. Failed to eliminate even one of his blasted Heavens' Ward.

No. **I** had failed.

 _I never told you. Gods-damned fool that I am, I never told you how much I loved you_.

For a long time, I simply knelt, numb and blank to everything. It was Estinien who roused me, by the simple method of grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet by force. He marched me down through the ornate halls, and back out of the Vault.

I let him. His grip hurt, and I welcomed the pain.

He didn't let go of me until we had reached Fortemps manor. Once there, he all but threw me into the sitting room. Then he turned on his heel and left.

Alphinaud, Tataru, Artoirel, Emmanellain – all of them looked to me as I stood there, blankly staring back at them.

Then my eyes lit on the Count, standing with his back to me. I moved towards him, my steps uneven. But I was still a yard away when he spoke, his voice harsher than I'd ever heard it.

“Don't. Please.”

I stopped in my tracks.

“A knight lives to serve. To protect. To _sacrifice_. There is no greater calling.” His words were punctuated by harsh breaths, as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Leave me to mourn, and give chase. For my son, and for the nation he loved.”

I stepped back, shaking, as he snarled, “ _ **Go!**_ ”

Tataru began to weep, very softly.

I backed away, one step, then two. The Count's shoulders began to shake. “My son. My... _son_...!” His cane clattered to the floor as he collapsed to his knees.

I turned and fled.

I found my way outside, somehow, blinded by my own tears. The sound of the Count's raw grief hung in my ears, shredded my soul.

_Gods, why?_ _**Why** _ _?_

I staggered to the railing. Part of me wanted to fling myself into the permanent fog below. _I didn't want him to die! He shouldn't have died for_ _ **me**_ _!_

I squeezed my eyes shut, and leaned over the rail, abruptly losing everything in my belly. When I could stop retching, I sank to my knees and leaned against the cold stone. My eyes ached. My throat was raw. My chest hurt. And all of it was nothing more than an annoyance compared to the gaping hole the size of a man in my heart.

_Haurchefant..._

For one instant I understood the dragons' rage, on a level deeper than ever. _If it would bring you back, I would kill them all. You were worth more than all twelve of those bastards. If it would bring you back, I would burn this damn_ _ **city**_ _to the ground._

I shook my head, knowing that more death wasn't an answer. It wouldn't bring Haurchefant back. It wouldn't even ease my pain, or the Count's pain.

I gripped the carved stone so hard that my palms ached.

“Berylla?”

I opened one eye, glaring around to see who wanted to bother me now.

Tataru edged back a step, looking alarmed, and I tried to tone down my glower.

“Y-You don't want to talk to anyone, I know...but, but Ser Aymeric just sent a message.”

“Let Alphinaud go. I have nothing useful to say.”

“Berylla...”

“Tataru, I love you dearly, but I really can't. Not right now.”

“Will you at least take yourself to the Forgotten Knight? Rest there?”

I considered it, looking morbidly out at the clouds over the edge. “...Yes. I'll go.”

She didn't hide her sigh of relief.

I creaked to my feet, and let her lead me. She had the sense, at least, to just walk with me, and not try to comfort me. I chided myself for being uncharitable. _Just because I'm miserable doesn't mean I need to be hateful too._

She made sure I took a room, and walked me to the door. And then, finally, I was alone again.

I sat on the edge of the bed. After a few moments, I took off my boots. Another few minutes of staring blankly at the wall, and I lay down on my side. The thin sunlight of the Ishgardian morning made a pattern as it fell through the window, and I stared at the pale squares as they crept across the wooden floor boards. When the pillow was soaked through from my silent tears, I adjusted, flipping the pillow over, and once more stared at nothing.

His smile haunted me. _Gods, why did you smile at me? Why didn't you curse my name as I deserved? Why, Haurchefant?_

I opened my eyes. A door had opened, and shut. The room was dark, the squares on the floor gone.

I heard a match strike, and sat up to see a tall shadow near the door, lighting the candle in the wall sconce.

The flame bloomed, and settled. A man in a blue cloak stood there, with tousled black hair.

“Aymeric?” I coughed. My voice was hoarse.

“I came to look in on you,” he said, turning towards me. The shadows covered his face. I could see that beneath the common blue cloak, his arm was in a sling.

“You're wounded. Shouldn't you...”

“Shut up.”

I swallowed hard as he strode over to me. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” he sat down on the bed beside me, “shut up.”

I stared at him. His eyes were bloodshot; his skin was pale, and I could hear him breathing a little hard. _He shouldn't be out of his bed_.

“Aymeric...”

“ _Shut up and listen to me_.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, staring at him, and bit my lip.

“He _wanted_ to do it.” Aymeric stared at the wall. “He _wanted_ to save you, and he was happy when he died.”

I put my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back.

“He would not want you to blame yourself.”

“He shouldn't have died in the first damn place!”

“I agree. But he is gone, and _you_ are not.”

“It should have been me,” I whispered, and five ghosts wafted across my eyes. “I failed him.”

“You may be the Warrior of Light,” Aymeric said sharply, “but I will turn you over my knee and _spank_ you if you ever say that in my hearing again.”

I leaned away from him, eyes wide, startled. I put both my hands over my mouth, but I couldn't stop the giggling that burst forth. It was something Haurchefant would have said too. And we would have laughed...or made love.

In that instant my giggles turned to wails. I wrapped my arms around my belly, curled in on myself, and gulped for air between my sobs.

Aymeric slapped me, once. The crack of his hand against my cheek was loud in the tiny room.

I fell against him, gasping.

Aymeric gathered me close, the way Haurchefant had done. It nearly broke me again.

“It hurts,” I whispered. “It hurts _so damn much_.”

“I know.” His voice was no louder than mine. “But you can't let it stop you.”

Moving slowly I put my arms around him, and buried my face against his shoulder. “If I were...going to stop...would have jumped already,” I managed, through hiccups.

His arm around me tightened.

“I'm just so damn tired.” I took a deep and shaky breath. “So many lost. So many beyond all my help. And why – why did it have to be – why couldn't it have been someone _else_?”

“Because he was Haurchefant,” Aymeric said simply.

I rested against him, eyes aching. Eventually it occurred to me to ask.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I told you, because I was concerned.”

“You could have asked Tataru.”

He lowered his head, pressing his temple against mine. “Because Haurchefant would have wanted me to make sure you were all right.”

“I'm not.”

“I know.”

“What about you?”

“Eh?”

“Well, will _you_ be all right? He cared about you a lot too.”

He pressed his lips against my hair. “This is not the first time I've lost one I cared about,” he murmured. “The shock is perhaps a little less for me.”

“People around me get dead a lot,” I sniffed. “But I guess that's the same for you.”

“Except that I am a mere mortal, and I have lost battles far more frequently than you have, I suspect.”

I sat up a little, and scrubbed at my face. “Maybe.” My eyes felt swollen, and I peered at him through lashes still wet with tears. “Thank you...for checking on me.”

“Promise me,” he said, tucking a stray bit of hair back behind my ear, “that you will come talk to me in the morning.”

“At your office?”

“I should be recovered enough to push papers about,” he nodded, a tone of impatience in his voice. My brow creased.

“You sneaked out, didn't you?”

He didn't answer, but when he stood up, his wince of pain told me that I'd been right.

I looked up at him. His eyes met mine, and he took my hand in his, squeezing gently.

For a moment, we shared our pain. For a moment, it was almost bearable. Almost.

He moved toward the door, and I bit my lip, wishing I dared ask him to stay.

He paused, and looked back at me. “I wish I could stay,” he murmured. “ _He_ would have.”

I shook my head, astonished, and he gave me a sad little smile. And then he left.

I managed to get up, wash my face a little, and blow the candle out, before I curled up on the bed again, and slept.

_A place of stars_...

“Don't you dare cry yourself to death over me, you lovely little fool.”

I turned to him and flung myself toward him. But my arms closed on nothing – I passed right through him.

“Sorry, my dear.”

I sobbed, once. “Haurchefant...”

“You knew, and so did I, that something like this would happen. Didn't I tell you, it was my fate?”

“Not for _me_ ,” I cried. “It's my fault, and gods...I'm _so sorry_.”

“Stop apologizing.”

I pulled at my hair. “I miss you.”

“I know. That's a little part of why I'm here, you know. Your pain...your need.”

“My weakness, you mean?”

“I'm going to spank you,” he warned.

“ _He_ said that too. What is it with you two?”

He laughed – that free, easy laugh that I loved so much. Then he came close, and put his hand against my cheek. A coolness – not a true touch, but...

“I love you,” I told him. “I should have told you...before.”

“I knew.” His smile was tender. “I loved you as well. I don't regret a moment of my life. Not even one.”

“Gods, it isn't _fair_.” I sniffed, fresh tears burning in my eyes. “There's no one else...”

“He's still interested, you know. Circumstances have kept the two of you apart – but if you gave Aymeric half a chance...”

I shook my head. “It's been so long, he has to have given up by now.”

“I told you, he's a very patient and very stubborn man.” Again, that tender smile. “I think he'd be good for you. I know you would be very good for him. Let him in, Berylla.”

“I'm afraid,” I whispered. “I've lost so many now...they're all gone.”

“Not all,” he said. “Fight that fear, my love. Isolation will kill you. Connection will save you and everyone else with you.”

“I can't do this. I can't live with this...pain.”

“Yes, you can. You have before. You're clever, and you're strong. You'll be all right.”

“You won't be here again, will you?”

He didn't answer, just smiled. “Come now, my love. It's time to go back.”

“I don't want to go,” I said, my voice small.

“I know, but it's time.”


	28. The Chase Begins

I met Alphinaud outside Aymeric's office. We entered, to find Estinien already there. I kept my eyes away from everyone, focusing on a paper just left of center on Aymeric's desk. If I didn't look at them, I could keep up the fiction that I was fine.

“I trust your wounds are healing well?” Alphinaud inquired politely.

From the corner of my vision I saw Aymeric turn his head slightly toward me.

“Some wounds do not heal.”

My eyes went to his.

The room faded away.

I came back to myself on Aymeric's carpet, my head aching. I lifted my eyes and saw Aymeric staring at me in concern. Estinien, having seen this happen to me before, was merely watchful.

Alphinaud's hand was on my shoulder. “You saw something, did you not? A vision from the past?”

I nodded, and levered myself to my feet. “I saw...” I coughed, and tried again. “The archbishop...talking to Aymeric.” My eyes shut for a moment. “He knew. And he ordered you _tortured_...” I opened my eyes, rage swelling in me. “He is mad.”

Aymeric's blue eyes widened in shock. “So this is the power of the Echo,” he murmured. “Would that it had shown you a finer moment from my past.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it.

“It was an exercise in futility, as you saw,” Aymeric continued, in a louder voice. “Faced with the power of his conviction, and his many rejoinders, my words deserted me. To be frank, I am embarrassed to recall it.” He looked away, frowning.

_Thordan had a long, long time to think about all those rejoinders. He had to have been thinking about ways to argue those points – to argue them with you specifically in mind! - for years. That's_ _**not** _ _a fair fight._

“A friend once impressed upon me the importance of differentiating between _words, deeds, and beliefs_ ,” Alphinaud said in an almost casual voice. “Were he here, I suspect he would judge your father's “conviction” to be no more than rank, self-serving delusion.”

Aymeric's smile acknowledged the reminder of his own words.

“Even so, I cannot help but wonder what manner of change he intends to bring about.” Alphinaud nibbled on his thumbnail.

Aymeric nodded. “I have given some thought to that as well. During the battle within the Vault, the Heavens' Ward demonstrated strange and unnatural abilities.”

Lucia nodded, her expression troubled. “The manner in which Ser Zephirim struck down Lord Haurchefant was unlike anything I've seen before.”

“The spectacle called to mind King Thordan and his knights twelve as they are depicted in scripture – holy powers and all.” Aymeric's words sent a shiver through me. _Holy powers._..

“Mere fabrications,” Alphinaud began, and paused. He began to gnaw his thumbnail as he muttered. “Fabrications...which have become objects of faith...instilled with the beliefs of countless devoted souls...” His eyes went wide. “Seven hells!”

Aymeric nodded. “If Lady Iceheart can use her own body as a vessel for summoning, I see no reason why others could not.”

“Are the Heavens' Ward truly so reckless?” asked Lucia.

“Unbelievable.” Alphinaud's voice held equal parts anger, frustration, and incredulity.

Silence fell for a long moment as we all contemplated the nightmarish idea of _twelve_ primals in one location.

Aymeric broke the silence, his words thoughtful. “As they fled, my father spoke of Azys Lla. Though I know not what he intends, I fear no good shall come of it. His ambitions are too great, his minions too powerful. We must find them, and stop my father before it is too late!”

I listened as he made a true, formal request to Alphinaud that we aid Ishgard in the matter of the archbishop – to bring him to justice.

 _He's asking us to kill his father, in full knowledge of what he's doing_.

Yet there was no rage, merely determination, in his words.

_I've got rage enough for all of us._

“Will you do this?” He looked straight at me.

“I will hunt him to the ends of the earth if I must. He will pay for what he has done.”

Alphinaud, Lucia, and I stepped outside. The morning had turned gray, and a few flakes of snow fell gently to the ground as Alphinaud spoke to me. “I thought Shiva an unprecedented threat, but this? Ishgard's twelve finest knights, each imbued with primal powers.” His voice faded to a whisper. “May the gods have mercy on us all.”

Lucia got right to the point – she had intelligence indicating that the archbishop's airship, the Soleil, had been spotted in the Sea of Clouds, but not in an area that Camp Cloudtop could access.

“Well, that's an easy problem,” I commented. “We ask Cid. I'm sure he can find the time to give us a lift.”

Alphinaud nodded, and headed off.

Lucia set her hand on my arm. “A moment, if you would.”

I turned to face her, but she tugged me along by my elbow, stepping into a small alcove out of the general path – and out of earshot of the knights who stood guard over the doors to the Congregation.

“What's wrong, Lucia?”

“It concerns Aymeric.” Her green eyes searched mine. Her hand was still on my arm and I felt her fingers tensing, just short of bruising me. “He visited you, last night?”

I nodded, wary. “He looked in on me. He was concerned, or so he told me.” I tilted my head a little. “I got the idea he sneaked out, to do so.”

“Yes. I was...concerned as well. For him, you understand.”

“Of course.” I looked at her for a long moment, and sighed. “Look. Lucia. I'm absolute rubbish at dancing around anything verbally, all right? Can we just have this out, in plain words? I'm guessing you aren't happy because he came to see me, and it's not just because of how badly hurt he is either. Is it? You care for him. And you're...well, jealous. Right?”

She regarded me with blank shock for all of two seconds, and then her skin took on the most unusual blush I'd ever seen – starting at her neck and reaching her ears before it hit her cheeks.

“I don't blame you,” I told her. “But I want you to know this. I'm not in charge of what he chooses to do, who he chooses to talk to or pursue. I didn't actively chase him.” I set my hand over hers. “I respect you immensely, but if you think about it, you need to talk to Aymeric, not to me.”

Her hand trembled under mine. A sheen of tears made her eyes gleam. “You are indeed rubbish at subtlety,” she said, her voice hoarse. “And I am glad of it.”

“I don't want to have another scene like we did at Dragonhead, that's all,” I told her, trying to smile a little. “Not when there's no need for it. I have no claim on him, Lucia, and I don't intend to try to lay claim to him in the future. I don't chain people to me.”

“Lord Haurchefant...?”

I swallowed hard, and it was my turn to tremble. “He was never mine. We cared for each other as dear friends,” I hiccuped on the words, “but no promises lay between us. Even if – someday – Aymeric were to...to...”

I shook my head, and grabbed her arms in my hands. “I would _never_ ask him to be mine alone. You never need fear that from me, Lucia. I swear to you. But...talk to the man. Okay?”

Lucia stepped back, her face a mask of neutrality. But I could see the confusion and the warring emotions in her eyes. “As you say. I shall not keep you any longer.”

I bowed my head to her, and left her there.

Cid was, as usual, near the airship landing. He grinned when he saw us approaching. “Ah, the dastardly duo. What mischief have you two been getting up to lately?”

His cheerfulness was sandpaper on my grief. I opened my mouth, but I couldn't speak.

Alphinaud set his hand on my arm. “You haven't heard, have you?” He took a long breath. “I hardly know where to start...”

He gave Cid the briefest summary of all that had happened, and why we were here. All the while, he kept his hand on me, a gentle pressure that somehow kept me grounded.

Cid was silent for a moment when Alphinaud finished speaking. His voice was low as he put a hand on my shoulder. “He was a good man.”

 _The best_. I could only nod.

Alphinaud asked, “Cid. Have you ever heard of “Azys Lla”? The archbishop spoke of it before he fled.”

Cid shrugged. “No, but it's probably some source of phenomenal cosmic power that's key to his plans.” His eyes narrowed. “From what he told Berylla, the Ascians tried to tempt him as they tempted Gaius with the Ultima Weapon. Even if he spoke true about playing along, I can see him attempting to seize it.”

“As if we needed another reason to pursue him,” Alphinaud muttered.

Cid put his hands on his belt. “Well, I'm convinced. The Enterprise is at your disposal.” His mercurial humor reasserted itself. “Ha. After pulling you out of the fire these last few times, I reckon I'm due to deliver you into it.”

Alphinaud's mouth quirked. “Into the fire, is it?” Then he sobered. “In that case, I should inform Tataru of our plans.” He turned to me. “Pray make ready and wait for me here. I shall join you as soon as I've finished speaking with her.”

He strode off, and I gave Cid a brief nod before walking in the opposite direction. Not that I had any preparations to make, really, but I didn't want to make conversation.

I wandered down the street for a few yards, almost aimlessly. I hadn't explored this part of the city very much. It seemed to be a residential area – not poor, but not as opulent as the areas around the great manors of the High Houses. I found the quiet soothing.

“Hello,” said a voice behind me.

I turned to see Aymeric standing in the street, looking at me quizzically.

“Oh, hello.”

“Might I ask what you're doing? You look a bit...”

“I'm not lost.” I managed a small smile. “I was just...wandering a little. Not much to do while I wait for Alphinaud.” Then I tilted my head a little. “Were you...” Then I shook my head. _Idiot, he wasn't looking for you, or he wouldn't have been surprised to see you._

“I am returning home for a short while,” he said. His lips twisted. “The doctor was most insistent that I stop work today early, to take medicines.”

“So you're going to take your medicines, but then go right back to work, aren't you?”

He nodded once. “Exactly.” He hesitated. “If you'd care to come in...?”

My eyebrows went up, and he laughed softly. “You happen to be standing right in front of my house.”

“Oh!” I stepped aside, and then half turned to look at the red door with gold trim.

He stood waiting, and I cleared my throat. “I...I appreciate the offer. I do. But I'd better not. I don't know when I'll need to leave.”

He inclined his head, a gracious acceptance of my words. “I understand. Another time, perhaps.”

“I hope so.” The words were out before I could think about them. I felt the blood rising in my face, and added, “I should go back to the landing.”

As I walked away, I fought down my feelings again. Not an hour ago, I'd been promising Lucia I wasn't after him, that he wasn't really all that interested in me. Even so mild a bit of flirtation as what he'd just said made me feel shaky inside.

With everything that had happened – so much, so fast – I felt as if I were a piece of porcelain that had cracked, and was on the edge of shattering. _I can't break now. Not yet. Not until this is over. I'm going to kill the archbishop. I can think again,_ _ **after**_ _he is dead at my feet._

_Bird-men. Of course, bird-men. The gods have no sense of justice_.

But these bird-men, unlike the tribe who had kidnapped Emmanellain, were friendly enough. Of course, we _had_ just saved one of their own from being beaten to death by Imperial thugs. That probably helped.

They, too, had seen the Soleil. That good news was overshadowed by the presence of Imperial troops in the area, who apparently also were searching for the archbishop, and who were furthermore attempting to take on “The White” - Bismarck, the enormous flying whale that had tried to eat us.

Even as we tried to ask the Vanu for more details on the archbishop's ship, we heard cannon fire. The bird-men cowered in fear, not understanding what the sounds were. And then – the unearthly wailing song that I'd heard twice before.

“Look!” Cid pointed. The whale breached the clouds, wings sweeping in strong beats. “He's wounded!”

Cid was right – I could see trails of blue fluid running down the creature's side. An Imperial gunship pursued Bismarck, but he put on a burst of speed – and swooped across a small island, only to swallow it whole.

_He – did he just eat an entire island?? That chunk of rock was too small to place a house on – but it was still bigger than the Enterprise!_

As Bismarck fled, leaving the Imperials far behind, we looked at each other in astonishment.

“You're kidding. Of all the islands in all the Sea of Clouds, he ate the _one_ island we really needed him not to eat?”

“I don't suppose we can just leave that key in his belly, can we?” Cid asked, with a hopeful tone. Then he sighed. “No, no, we can't. If we don't retrieve it, the Imperials will, and if _they_ don't, that archbishop fellow will. There's no help for it. We'll just have to kill the damn thing before they do.”

“Such an easy task.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, let's ask the bird-men a few more questions,” Cid suggested. “Surely they can tell us something that will give us an idea as to how to catch a whale in the sky.”

Twenty minutes later, I knew a charming bit of folk lore and not a single useful fact about Bismarck.

Alphinaud and I stood talking, and I shook my head over the interesting – but not very useful – myths that I had heard. He'd had no luck either, and as Cid walked up to us, we both looked at him with glum expressions.

“Nothing, then?” Cid asked.

“Nothing useful,” Alphinaud sighed, “unless you have an interest in the intricacies of Vanu sky-fishing.”

“Sky-fishing...?” Cid mused, and got that faraway look I'd seen before – usually right before he got some completely mad idea.  
After only a moment or two, he snapped his fingers. “Aha! My gods, that's it! Alphinaud, my boy, I could kiss you!”

“Please do not,” Alphinaud muttered, backing away a step. I buried a laugh.

Cid spoke quickly, his voice full of excitement. “From what we have observed, Bismarck is a creature of pure instinct, driven primarily by hunger. When wounded by the imperials, it fled─but not before devouring another island to restore its strength.”

He raised one finger. “What I propose is this: we tow a suitably appetizing island through the Sea of Clouds, in essence “fishing” for our flying whale.” A second finger went up. “Once we draw Bismarck out of hiding, we shall use dragonkillers to fire grapnels into the beast's hide, and then reel it in close, enabling our resident eikon-slayer to engage it directly.”

I regarded the engineer with raised eyebrows. _Not a horrible plan, but_...

“A bold plan, Master Garlond─but an exceedingly dangerous one. Should Berylla fail to subdue the creature, she would almost certainly be _eaten_ , along with the rest of your “appetizing” island.” Alphinaud crossed his arms.

Cid waved that consideration away. “Oh, come on, she won't fail. And if anything does go wrong, I'll be at the helm of the Enterprise, ready to tow her out of trouble. I wouldn't entrust a task like this to anyone else.”

“I wouldn't risk a crazy-as-hell plan like this with anyone else,” I told him, only half joking.

He grinned at me, very pleased with himself.

“I trust you have no objections to my joining you as well?” Alphinaud asked.

Cid clapped him on the shoulder, and Alphinaud stood firm, making the engineer grin even wider. “Not at all! The more the merrier!”

He clapped his hands together. “Right, then─it seems the boys and I have a lot of work to do if the Enterprise is to be ready for our fishing trip, while you two need to find me some bait! And not just any island, mind─I want a mouthful at most!”

He turned to head back to the Enterprise, with a bounce in his stride. I exchanged glances with Alphinaud, and we both sighed. “I suppose we should talk to the tribe's chief again. Maybe he will be willing to cede us a small island.” Alphinaud shook his head. “No one would ever believe this story if I told it in a tavern.”


	29. The Chase Falters

Bismarck sang his final song, and disintegrated into motes of aether. The chains that had held him fell slack, and a rain of pebbles and other small debris pelted me. I sank to one knee as pain flared in my skull and my chest.

_A place of stars, and six crystals, three of them dim and dull. One burned with the warmth of a cheerful fire, one flickered with purple lightnings, and the last shimmered with a yellow like the molten rock flowing beneath the earth._

_And then, as I gazed at it, one of them flickered...flared...and with a sudden flash, burst back into life. The sparkling blue of many waters glittered there, and I could hear the trickle of streams, the voice of the sea. I tasted salt water, and realized that I was crying._

The crazy-as-hell plan had worked. Everything had gone just as we had hoped. The fight hadn't been _easy_ – but it hadn't been a disaster.

The strange, flat little object felt heavy in my palm as I regarded it.

_So this is the key to Azys Lla. What did the chieftain call it? “The ancient birthplace of sin, home of forbidden secrets.” Sounds like the kind of place the Imperials would just love..._

The Enterprise was slowing, gradually, and as the howling wind faded by degrees, a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see the archbishop pacing toward me – and he was not alone.

A figure in a black robe, and a scowling red mask walked beside him. I startled back. _No, it can't be Lahabrea! I killed him!_

But the voice that issued from the smooth lips was feminine, not masculine. “I see you have recovered the Blessing of Light,” the Ascian said. Her hand stretched out, and I gasped as dark power coalesced around me, lifting me off the ground, crushing my chest. “But it is weak – a fraction of its former power. Nothing to fear.”

The key dropped to the ground.

A tendril of the shadowy power lifted the key, and spun it through the air, until it landed in the archbishop's hand like a pet bird.

_You have_ _**got** _ _to be fucking kidding me._

I wanted to scream, to call out to Alphinaud and the others locked inside the Enterprise. But my breath was slowly being squeezed out of me, my throat blocked. I felt the joints in my arms and shoulders strain under the pressure. _She's going to kill me. And there's not a damn thing I can do_.

The archbishop laughed, and activated the key. My eyes watered as I struggled for one more breath, but I didn't take my eyes off of him.

A beam of brilliant blue light shot out from the key, pointing – somewhere off into what looked like blank blue sky. The key hummed, and settled again. The archbishop turned away, without even glancing at me, and paced serenely back to the Soleil as it pulled up to the edge of our chained island.

The Ascian regarded me, as if studying some odd looking beetle. Then she released the spell on me, and I crashed to the ground, splitting my lip and getting a mouth full of grass. I rolled to my knees, dizzy and gasping for breath. I couldn't even curse as she walked away, as calmly as if I were no threat at all.

_At this point, I'm not. Ah, gods, what a fucking joke. The great Warrior of Light, errand girl of the very man she's out to execute..._

I sat cross-legged on the deck of the Enterprise and let Alphinaud tend to me. Everyone else stepped around the two of us, walking on egg shells.

_I must look like hell. Or maybe I just look like I want to murder anything I can get my hands on, which right now is pretty fucking accurate. Damn that man. Damn the Ascians._

Wedge and Alphinaud had tried to explain – to apologize for not coming out and helping. But they couldn't have heard me even if I'd screamed myself hoarse, and we all knew it. So I stayed silent, and waited for Wedge to go away.

I half expected Alphinaud would go, too, once he'd done what he could with his healing magics.

But he didn't. He sat down beside me, close enough that our knees touched.

“You look as if all is lost,” he commented. “It's not, you know.”

I grunted, not looking at him.

“We yet live, and we know their destination!” He bumped his shoulder against mine. “Come now, Berylla. You know it isn't your fault. And you know we cannot do this without you.”

I gave him a dirty look. “Stop trying to cheer me up.”

“I'm not.” He set one hand on my shoulder. “I'm merely reminding you that this isn't over. We will find the archbishop. He will pay for what he's done. Unless...”

His mouth curved in a sly smile. “Unless you're going to give up.”

“Not bloody fucking likely,” I snapped.

He squeezed my shoulder hard. “Good. Then let us give chase and bring an end to their machinations!”

But the gods weren't done laughing at us yet.

The Vanu village was full of worried murmuring in the wake of the Imperial attack. They eyed Lucia nervously, and gave her powered armor – or the “steel monster of fire” as they were calling it – a wide berth. Even after the armor had been loaded onto the Enterprise, the bird-men didn't calm down.

_I can't blame them. I can't imagine they've ever seen Imperial firepower. Or been brutalized by those bastards, for that matter. And even I've never seen a dreadnought like that. Gods, Lolorito was right._

It all made me feel completely insignificant, and slow, and stupid. I could barely understand the technology the Imperials used – much less the artifacts they were seeking. I could maybe fight back two or even three of those damned Knights – but all twelve at once? _And_ an Ascian? _And_ a full Imperial Legion?

 _Maybe I won't have to mourn you for long, Haurchefant_. But the thought didn't comfort me. Instead it filled me with a black tempest of rage, frustration, and fear.

Cid and Alphinaud stood off to one side, discussing something intently. I leaned up against a stone, ankles crossed, just waiting.

Wedge came dashing up, waving his arms in excitement. Cid nodded, and followed the Lalafellin engineer back to the Enterprise. Alphinaud turned and headed my way.

I straightened. “Please tell me it's time to go.”

“Yes. Wedge managed to calculate a heading...”

I waved my hand. “I don't care about the feats of mathematics right now. Give me something to kill.”

He gazed up at me, his mouth tightening. “You sound like Estinien.”

The rage flickered. I knew he didn't deserve my nasty attitude, but I couldn't stop myself.

I bowed to him, a mocking bow fully as sarcastic as anything the dragoon could have done. “Then I shan't trouble you with my objectionable conversation, sir.”

I stalked away, and boarded the airship without looking back.

Lucia finished her story, and for a moment, all was quiet. She cast her gaze to me, but I leaned against the railing, staring out across the clouds. I'd deliberately avoided looking at anyone, speaking to anyone. Occasionally I would scan the skies ahead of the prow, hoping to catch a glimmer of the Soleil. As ostentatiously gilded as the damn thing was, she ought to be visible for miles even in the lowering sun.

But there was no sign.

Wedge shouted, pointing ahead and to starboard. “There!”

I moved to stand near him, leaning on the rail.

“I think that's it!” Cid bellowed. The wind was rising. Dust filled the air, and the ruddy light of sunset faded to a dull, more orange light as we were engulfed in clouds that seemed incredibly filthy.

I could smell machine oil. Ceruleum fuel.

My hands tightened on the railings. _Yeah, this is the place. Gods-damned Allagan machinery_.

And then I saw it.

_Azys Lla, ancient birthplace of sin, home of forbidden secrets..._

I felt as if I might vomit. The whole place looked unnatural – wrong in a way that turned my stomach and made me want to run away. A monster, but a monster in many pieces, its organs held to its corpse by barbed chains...

Slowly my mind resolved the incredibly weird shapes into something less organic, though not much less nightmarish. A gigantic ship dominated the central portion of the complex – if you could call it a complex, since it was entirely airborne. Dozens of small cylinders floated all over, lights blinking on them. More lights glowed from stranger, larger shapes. Creatures moved about – tiny from this distance – but their bodies gleamed in the sullen light, like bronze.

 _That ship must be three miles long just by itself...what was this place_ _ **for**_ _?_ I shook my head. _No, I don't want to know. I want to find that blasted old man, I want to get this job over with, and I want to get out of here as fast as possible._

Cid guided the Enterprise towards that massive ship.

But we'd only gone forward a few hundred yards more when the Enterprise began to buck and shake.

Alphinaud nearly fell to his knees before he got his hands on a railing. “What was _that_?”

“Some sort of barrier,” Cid answered, his teeth clenched. Strangely colored lightning began to race across the hull, and I snatched my hands away from the railing, hissing in pain as the metal scorched me.

Wedge cried out. “Chief! She's breaking up! She can't take this!”

I could see a field of force – like the one that I could create for myself, but _vast_ – and I knew somehow that for the Enterprise to smash against that barrier would mean our deaths.

“Turn it around!” I screamed over my shoulder to Cid.

“It's no use!” Alphinaud shouted. “We must return to Ishgard and find another way!”

“Damn it all!” Cid eased off the controls, curving the Enterprise away. The ship still rattled, and the lightnings still crawled all over her. Smoke was coming out of some of the panels, and I heard something down in the belly of the ship breaking – metal screaming as it was torn.

Finally she turned, and Cid poured on the throttle.

“Why do the Allagans have to make everything so bloody damn complicated?” Cid shouted, to no one in particular.

We arrived at the airship landing in the center of night. Everyone's breath made clouds in the icy air. I breathed deep, wanting the sting of the cold. But there was no time to do more, for Lucia led us right to the Congregation, sending messengers scurrying the moment her feet crossed the threshold.

I waited, as I had before in the Vanu village, leaning against a wall. I kept my arms crossed, more to hide my hands than anything else. They ached and stung, and the damage was obvious. I'd be fine in twelve hours or so, and I'd endured worse hurts in the past. I didn't want Alphinaud to see, though.

Before I could settle into another pity session, Aymeric swept through the door. He scanned the lot of us, frowning for a moment before he saw me. His eyes met mine, and I saw the question in them.

_Are you well?_

I shook my head, a tiny denial. _No_. Then I looked away.

He led us all down the hall and into his office, and patiently listened to everything Cid told him – the discovery of the key, the destruction of Bismarck, the subsequent theft of the key and our failed chase.

“In conclusion,” Cid spread his hands, “if we are to get into Azys Lla, we will first need to pass through the isle's aetherial barrier – which is, alas, more powerful than most.” His next words were more of a grumble. “Powerful enough to make a mess of a perfectly good airship, at any rate.”

He started discussing technical terms, and I let my mind stop listening for a time, ignoring his and Alphinaud's attempts to trade dry humor.

_I wonder if I can sneak off while they're debating or researching or whatever they decide to do. I need to get my head straight, somehow, before I start acting any worse._

I saw Aymeric looking at me, only half listening to the two geniuses. A memory tickled my mind, of hot water, and too much beer. _One of these days I'm going to have to ask him what really happened that night_...

“Well...we could try piercing it,” Cid suggested.

“How?” Aymeric's eyes went to Cid at that.

“Create a ram of condensed aether, and mount it on my ship,” Cid said. Then he rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling a little. “There's just one problem...I haven't the faintest notion how to build one. It's going to take a true authority in the field, I reckon.”

“Such as an Archon?” Alphinaud sighed. “If only they were still with us.”

I looked down. Three weeks – only three weeks? My heart twisted in my chest.

“I had a message from Count Edmont,” Aymeric said slowly, “indicating that Tataru may have found some information regarding your lost friends. I cannot say what exactly she has found, but I do know that she has taken to spending long evenings at the Forgotten Knight, so she is likely still there right now.”

“Well, if she has any sort of a lead...” Alphinaud's eyes lit up.

Cid nodded firmly. “All right then. You go look for our missing friend. I'll work on the Enterprise. Her hull is going to need reinforcement...not to mention a mount for the ram.”

Aymeric lifted his hand, palm up, a gesture excusing Alphinaud and me. The two of us walked out, and Cid resumed talking to Aymeric.

“Good news at last,” Alphinaud said as we stepped outside.

I shook my head. _Maybe_.

Tataru was indeed holding court in the Forgotten Knight. She looked cheery and comfortable, and I forced myself to smile a little as she greeted us with excitement. “I have _news_!”

Of course it wasn't a simple matter of showing up at some back-water tavern, or defeating some hideous monsters. No, nothing so straight forward.

We stood in the canyon – Urianger, myself, Tataru, and Alphinaud – in the early morning sun. Even though the sun wasn't even fully over the horizon, already it was warm, and the stone dust rose in clouds, wafted up on the morning breezes.

I shuddered, and tried to keep my mouth tightly shut. Here, I had escaped the tunnels beneath the city, bruised in flesh and broken in spirit...but here also lay some sort of trail, that might tell us what had happened to Y'Shtola.

Urianger peered around, surveying the currents that flowed within and beneath the land, turning slowly in a circle.

“There.” His long arm pointed north. “The traces lead to the Shroud.”

“So she ended up somewhere in the forest?” I asked, and immediately regretted it. Stone dust coated my tongue, and I spat.

“Nay.” Urianger frowned. “From all appearances, Y'Shtola remaineth trapped within the Lifestream.” He looked over at Alphinaud. “Her essence cannot long tarry there without being dissolved. You must all hurry to Gridania. Perhaps one there will be of further aid.”

Alphinaud nodded firmly. “We will make our way there directly. Thank you, Urianger.”

Evening.

I sat with my head in my hands, wishing I dared order a pitcher of ale. _Drinking myself stupid sounds lovely._ I just wanted to rest. It had been two days now, without sleep.

I knew Alphinaud hadn't rested either, but he paced, silently, glancing at the door through which Tataru had vanished.

Y'Shtola was in a room. We had by some miracle recovered her – or rather, the elementals had plucked her out of the Lifestream once the Elder Seer had persuaded them. She had been unconscious for some hours after that – not all that surprising given what she had been through. But now she had woken. All that remained was for her to come out...

Alphinaud's ceaseless pacing stopped, and I heard his intake of breath. I lifted my head.

She looked wonderful. Tataru's surprise had, as it turned out, been a brand new outfit – nothing like what she'd created for Alphinaud, but something perfectly suited to Y'Shtola.

I felt my mouth stretching in the first real smile I'd been able to summon up in three days.

She stretched a little, and smiled back. Her eyes – once a sea-green color – were completely silver now. I thought them rather attractive, though I wondered if the changed color was a sign of some other sort of change. But, she hadn't mentioned any problems.

_I'm so glad just to have her back at all that I wouldn't have commented on it if she'd come out of the Lifestream with a hunch back and a wart on her nose!_

Tataru had caught Y'Shtola up on most of what had been going on; she was ready and eager to get to Ishgard, and from there to help us locate an old teacher of hers that – hopefully – would have information that we could use to create the aetherial ram.

The trouble was that the teacher resided in the abandoned city-state once claimed by the Sharlayans...a journey which would take precious time.

Alphinaud herded us all onto the last airship leaving for Ishgard.

I found a quiet spot where I could tuck myself out of the way, and sat on the deck, my back wedged against a bulkhead. As Alphinaud spoke quietly with Y'Shtola, I crossed my arms over my chest, and let my head sink forward.

As I drifted off, I heard her ask, “Alphinaud – is she quite all right? She looks...tired.”

“The past few days have been harder on her than anyone.”

“Whatever can you mean?”

“It's...rather a long story...”

I forced myself down into the oblivion of sleep.


	30. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a fever does what primals cannot...

The airship docked with a thump, waking me. I sat up straight, and stretched, feeling joints popping and muscles twinge. By the time I had managed to get on my feet, Alphinaud and Y'Shtola were already on the landing, headed straight for the Enterprise. Tataru was yawning, but she waited for me before she disembarked.

“I'm heading back to the manor,” she told me. “This is about the time that I've been getting to bed anyway.” She smiled up at me. “I'm _so_ glad we found Y'Shtola! Aren't you?”

I nodded. “I am. And it's all thanks to you, Tataru.”

“Aw,” she waved her hands as if to shoo me away.

“You can be modest about it if you wish, but it was _you_ that chased down every rumor to come through here, and it's _you_ that keeps everyone on track and organized to keep looking for the others.”

“Stop!” Tataru rolled her eyes. “You're making me blush, Berylla.”

I shook my head, and let her alone. She waved good-bye to me, and trotted off.

I eyed the sky, and sighed. My nap hadn't done me a great deal of good. I looked toward the Enterprise, and saw Y'Shtola fending off a hug from Biggs. Cid stood by, laughing, and Alphinaud was grinning like a fool. _I expect they're going to discuss technical things for a little while – no point going all the way out to find this mysterious master, only to realize we don't know quite what we want to ask_.

But I couldn't go over there. I didn't have anything to say – and listening to theories and jargon was only going to make my head hurt worse.

It occurred to me that part of my headache had to be because of hunger. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had an actual meal. Not since before our attack on the Vault, perhaps.

_Well, at least food is a relatively easy thing to get my hands on._

I wandered down the street, wondering if any of the shops might be open this early.

I didn't want to go back to the manor. I wasn't ready to face the family again, not yet.

I turned a corner, barely paying attention, and pulled up short as I nearly ran into someone. “My apologies,” I began, and then saw blue and gold robes.

Aymeric regarded me with a small smile. “You've returned. Did you find your friend?”

I felt as if I'd crashed into a brick wall. I opened my mouth, closed it, and opened it again without making a sound. “We...we did,” I managed at last. My voice was a croak.

Aymeric's smile faded away. “Are you all right?”

“Just...” I swallowed, and put a hand to my head. Aymeric's face seemed to waver in my vision, and the houses along the street seemed to lean in as if they wanted to peer down at me.

I opened my eyes, and saw angels.

I blinked rapidly, and realized that there were angels painted on the ceiling above me. I was laying on a couch. I turned my head.

Aymeric was sitting on the edge of the couch beside me, looking concerned.

“Wha' happened?” I asked. My tongue felt thick, my mouth was dry, and my head was pounding.

“You fainted,” he told me.

“Whaaa? Naw.” I worked my tongue around my mouth, frowning.

He set his hand on my forehead. “You're burning up, Berylla.”

“I don't get sick,” I said, forcing the words out. “And I have to leave soon.”

“Not today you don't.”

“You can't keep me here.” I tried to sit up, and fell back immediately as the room spun around me. “Guh.”

“You can't even get up.”

“My lord, the doctor is here.” I couldn't see the servant who spoke.

“Good.”

I lay still as the doctor looked me over. “Yes, a fever,” the old man declared. “A day of rest and she should be fine.”

“Just use some magic on me, and I can get off your couch and get back to work.”

The doctor pushed his spectacles up on his nose and regarded me gravely. “Mistress Berylla, any adventurer with half your experience knows that no magic known to man can remedy exhaustion. Only time, and rest, is going to cure you.”

“She shall have whatever she requires,” Aymeric told the doctor. “Thank you.”

The old man nodded, and took himself out.

I sighed, and put my arm across my eyes. The skin of my arm felt clammy against my forehead.

_I'm a fucking mess._

I heard soft sounds, but didn't worry about trying to figure out what they were, instead trying to focus on my feet and legs. _If I can get up and walk, I'll take myself to the inn, instead of languishing all over Aymeric's couch._ But all I could manage was wiggling my feet a little.

“Don't you dare try to stand up.”

I moved my arm to look at Aymeric. He had already shed his ornate coat, and held a folded, dark blue blanket in one hand.

“You know, you don't need to do this,” I told him. “You have work to do...”

“Hush.”

It was too much effort to argue. I closed my mouth, and just watched him for a moment. The dark blue silk of his shirt slid across his chest as he unfolded the blanket and laid it over me. I remembered seeing him in that shirt, with it half open...I forced my mind away from the memory. It lay too close to other memories.

“You're going to waste your day waiting on an idiot?”

“You're not an idiot,” he said mildly. “Lucia can handle things in my absence. I already sent messages to those who need to know where you are.”

“There really isn't time for me to rest,” I fretted. “We're supposed to leave to go find that expert on aetherial whatever-it-is. You know, because we're chasing your father?”

His blue eyes flashed at me. “I have not forgotten.”

A plump lady, wearing a dark-gray dress and a white apron with a ruffle around the hem came into my line of sight. She was carrying something, but I couldn't tell what until I heard the clink of dishes. “There you are, my lord. Just as you asked.”

“Thank you, Milinne.”

She glanced down at me, and gave me a small, kind smile. “Don't fret, my lady,” she told me. “We'll see you right as rain soon enough.”

Both of them left the room, and I could hear them talking, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Then I heard a knock on the door, and some kind of small shuffle.

I heard Alphinaud's voice, tight with worry. I wrenched myself up on one arm, narrowing my eyes against the pain and dizziness.

“Berylla...!”

“I'm fine,” I groaned.

“No, you're not.” Alphinaud went to one knee beside the couch. “And you're not going anywhere for now.”

I inched up until my back was braced against the arm of the couch. He watched me, frowning.

“I just need to eat,” I tried, but my voice trembled, and Alphinaud's eyes narrowed.

“You need to _rest_ ,” he told me, in a tone more like an older man than a seventeen year old. “And once you're well, you can catch up to us.” He took my hand in his. “Worry about _yourself_ for once. I can get myself and Y'Shtola to Tailfeather. We won't leave there without you.”

I sighed. “Sorry,” I whispered.

He gave me a one armed hug, and leaned his head against mine for a moment. “Just get better.”

Then he let me go, stood up, and left.

I was alone for a few minutes longer, leaning against the back of the couch, eyes half closed.

Aymeric returned. “Since you are already sitting up,” he said, “do you think you can eat?”

I nodded. “I was going to do that when...”

“Here.” He brought a small stool close to the couch, and sat down. From the tray on the table, he handed me a little plate holding a piece of pie. “This should help.”

I took the pie, and the fork he offered, and took a tiny bite. It was easily one of the sweetest things I'd ever tasted. The sugar exploded on my tongue, and my body clamored for more. I forced myself to eat slowly, knowing from experience that if I ate as fast as my stomach _wanted_ me to eat, I would be in much more discomfort. _And I'm already humiliated enough as it is_.

He took the empty plate from me, and handed me a tea cup. I admired the cup itself for a moment – it was the most elegant thing I'd ever laid eyes on, and yet it wasn't delicate. I drank, nearly scalding my tongue, and finished it in three long swallows.

“Now,” Aymeric said, taking the cup, “Tell me something.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you in such a state?”

I flushed, and looked at my hands. “I didn't set out to...to run myself into the ground.”

He got up. “Move over a little.”

He sat on the couch, and then gently tugged on me until I lay against him.

As I had once before, I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. Then I paused. _When did he hold me before?_

“Aymeric...”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember that night...with the sparring match...?”

“I do.” He had one arm around me, and his other hand came up, tugging at my hair tie.

“I don't...remember all of it.” I swallowed. “What did I do?”

“You had one beer too many,” he told me quietly, as he started to gently comb his fingers through my hair. “We made sure you were dry and warm, and you slept.”

“Why...why didn't you...”

“Haurchefant might have had flexible morals,” Aymeric said, a ripple of laughter in his voice, “but I do not.”

Hearing his name hurt, as I had feared it would. I bit my lip hard, but I couldn't stop myself from letting out a tiny sob.

Aymeric's arm tightened around me.

“You've been pursuing my father too hard.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful. “You've driven yourself to this point because you don't want to let yourself think about...”

“I can't,” I whispered. “There's no time.”

“He wouldn't want you to destroy yourself.”

“I said I didn't _mean_ to, dammit.”

“Sh.” His fingers began to move in my hair, gently massaging. “I know.”

“I wish you wouldn't be nice to me right now.” Trying to stave off the tears, I rubbed my cheek against him again.

“Have you _ever_ let someone care for you?”

I hesitated. “ _He_ did. And look where that got him.”

“I believe we've had this conversation before,” Aymeric said mildly. “Do you often repeat yourself this way?”

I sighed. “All right. I won't say it was my fault.” _Doesn't mean I won't believe it was. But I can stop saying it out loud_. “As for repeating myself...I wouldn't know.”

“Because you've never grieved?”

“No, because no one ever asks me the things you do. No one...” I stopped myself before the self-pity raised its ugly head. “I've lost friends before. Many times. I think I mentioned, people in my vicinity often get a bad case of death. Grief...isn't new.”

Aymeric curved his hand around my head, pressing me against his shoulder a little. “Yet you have not done such harm to yourself in the past.”

“He was...more than a friend. For me.” I rubbed my eyes. “I know he wasn't the kind of man who declares himself to one person. So maybe it was silly that I got...attached.”

“He cared for you more than most.”

“How would you...oh.” I managed a dry, raspy sort of chuckle. “I forget how much he talked to you.” All of a sudden, I yawned hugely. “Oh! Sorry.”

“Don't apologize. Here, move down a bit.”

I scooted down, and lay my head on his leg, turning myself on my side so that my back was against the back of the couch. Aymeric adjusted the blanket over me.

“Sleep,” he told me.

I lay there, as he kept stroking my hair. My eyes drifted shut, as sleep grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me into blackness.


	31. Recover

I opened my eyes, slowly. My head rested on something warm and firm...then my brain caught up. _I have my head in the Lord Commander's lap. Because I'm an idiot and gave myself a fever, and passed out at his feet_.

I shifted a little, turning my head to look up at him. My breath caught.

He was asleep, his head leaning to one side.

I turned over, moving slowly, hoping not to wake him.

His eyelashes were every bit as long and gorgeous as I remembered. Something coiled inside me as I stared at his mouth, a faint memory of his lips on mine.

I reached up and touched his cheek, a delicate, hesitant touch.

His eyes opened, and he smiled slightly. His hand came up to curl around mine, and he turned his head a little and kissed my finger tips.

“How do you feel?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Sad. Tired. Hungry.” My eyes fixed on his mouth, and I couldn't censor myself. “Horny.”

His laugh was very quiet. “You're still fevered.”

“Hm,” I nodded, “probably.”

He kissed my palm, and then put my hand down. “Shall we remedy your need for food?”

My stomach growled, and I had to laugh, weakly. “I suppose that's a good idea.”

I found myself able to get up, and even walk, though I felt wobbly.

Aymeric took my elbow and walked with me down a short hallway. He indicated a door to the left. “I imagine you need to refresh yourself by this point.” He let me go, and moved across the hall. “I'll wait for you,” he told me, leaning against the wall.

I rubbed one eye, and went through the left hand door.

When I stepped back out, feeling more human, he straightened, and led me a few feet farther down the hall, through a swinging door, and into a kitchen.

It wasn't a huge kitchen, but there was a table with four chairs in one corner. Aymeric took me over to it, and pulled a chair out for me. I sat, feeling a little tired after even so short a span of activity, and leaned my arms on the table.

“Are you feeling a little better, my lady?” asked the woman in the dark gray dress. _Milinne, that was her name_. She was standing at a cast-iron stove, stirring something in a tall pot. I took a better look at her – she wore a white cap, and a few soft gray curls escaped from beneath it. Her eyes were kind, and pale blue; her cheeks were like little apples, and she had lots of laugh lines around her mouth.

“Yes, a little better,” I answered, managing a smile. “Thank you.”

She smiled back at me, then turned her gaze on Aymeric, who was reaching for a line of mugs hanging on hooks on the wall. She cocked her head at him, and he said something I couldn't hear. Her eyes flickered from him to me, and back, and her smile widened.

Aymeric took down two mugs, and stepped out of sight, through a doorway I hadn't seen before. He came back only a moment later, holding a blue pitcher. He set the mugs and the pitcher down, and poured clear, cold water into both of the mugs. Then he put one of them in my hands, and sat down across from me.

I sipped slowly, looking at nothing in particular, my mind going foggy as the silence continued.

I looked up when the door opened, and an older Elezen stepped into the room. He had ash-blond hair, very short, and the tawny-pale eyes so peculiar to the Ishgardians. He was taking off a small, round hat as he came in, and as he hung it on a hook by the door, he noticed me and paused.

His gaze flicked to me and then went to Aymeric, who had turned his head to look at the fellow.

“Ah, Jarilant. Have there been any new messages since this morning?”

“None, my lord.”

“Good.”

“Shall I prepare a guest chamber, my lord?”

I realized he meant to prepare a room for me, and shook my head. Aymeric looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Not a word, Berylla. You are not finished resting.” Then he turned back to Jarilant. “Ready the green chamber, after we've all eaten.”

“As you wish, my lord.” With a small nod, he turned and went to stand beside Milinne.

I watched as she began handing him plates and cutlery, but I spoke to Aymeric. “Why are you going to all this trouble? I could make it to the inn now for certain. Get out of your way, and all.”

“I don't want you to go.”

My eyes met his, but before I could speak, Jarilant stepped over to the table.

With no fanfare or fuss, a simple meal of bread and soup was laid out on the table, and both Milinne and Jarilant seated themselves at the table. It was obvious to me that this wasn't an unusual situation for Aymeric. _He treats his house staff as family_.

Aymeric was more relaxed than I had ever seen him. I ate and listened to the three of them discussing little, homely matters.

“Should I try to find apples in the market this week? There's a nice fellow up from Gridania...” Milinne tilted her head towards Aymeric.

“I have heard that Gridanian apples are gracing the tables of every High House lately. No one speaks of how tasty they may or may not be,” Jarilant put in.

Milinne looked over at me, and I shrugged a little. “I've had more of Gridanian apple cider than the apples themselves, but I did help harvest some once, and they were very good.” I half smiled.

“Oh, that's something I hadn't considered. Cider...hm.” Milinne's eyes danced as she gave Aymeric a sideways look. “Though perhaps I shouldn't keep something so tempting in the house. Fury knows, I can't keep beer here for more than a week.”

Aymeric laughed. “It only happened once or twice, Milinne. And it was not I who drank such copious amounts.” His easy laugh enchanted me.

“That's true. Your friend certainly could drink.” She hesitated. “He was a delightful guest for all of that...he will be missed, I dare say.”

Aymeric's smile faded a little. “He is sorely missed.”

I cocked my head. “Am I wrong, or did you just basically say Haurchefant drank like a fish?”

Aymeric's eyes crinkled as he rubbed at his mouth. After a moment he answered, “He would visit from time to time. On a notable occasion, he did drink quite a lot. It wasn't a habit.”

“Oh.” I picked at my piece of bread for a moment. “I didn't know that about him. That he drank, I mean. We didn't...discuss that sort of thing.”

Aymeric reached across the table and took my hand, squeezing gently. The simple touch helped me steady my emotions, and I was glad of it.

When the food was all eaten, I felt good enough to help clear the table. Doing the simple chore made me feel calm, in a way that nothing else had done for weeks.

Aymeric took me out of the kitchen, and up a set of stairs, that let onto a wide hallway. On one side were tall windows; on the other, a handful of doors. Each one bore a small but gorgeous painting.

The door nearest the stairs – painted with leaves and tiny primroses – stood partly open. Aymeric led me into the room.

There was a simple, narrow bed, with a dark green coverlet, already turned down. At the end of the bed was a big chest, with a flat cushion on top of it.

Aymeric gestured to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. Get some more sleep.”

I turned to face him, and set my hands on his chest. “You could help me with that...”

He took my hands in his, and kissed my fingertips. “You're in no condition, Berylla.”

“I'm not drunk.”

“But you _are_ fevered, and you're still grieving. It wouldn't be right.”

“Maybe,” I breathed, and leaned in, tilting my face up to his. “But wouldn't it be _good_?”

I slid my hands out of his, and wrapped my arms around him. I only had to rise up on my toes a little bit to bring my mouth to his.

His hands closed on my shoulders, and tightened. I pressed myself to him, sliding my hands across his back, the silk of his shirt smooth against my fingers.

His breath was ragged as I ran my tongue across his lips, teasingly.

But he pushed me back.

“Berylla...” He dragged in a breath. “No.”

I plucked at his shirt, and yearned towards him. “No?”

“Not now.” He pushed me down so that I was sitting on the padded chest.

I sighed, and let him go. “But I _want_ you,” I said, petulant.

“You're not thinking clearly right now. I would rather have you in full possession of your senses when...” He cleared his throat, and stepped back.

He went to the door, and looked back at me, his hand on the door frame. “I will make arrangements,” he told me, “so that the moment you are ready, transport will be available for you.”

Then, he left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

I moved slowly, taking off one boot, then the other. I shed my vest and eased out of my pants. I kept listening for movement outside the door, pausing after removing each article. _He'll come back. He'll change his mind, and want me, and come back._

I waited, sitting on the padded chest, until I got cold. He didn't come back.

I got into the bed, and under the covers. The mattress was a little softer than I was used to, but the feather-bed and coverlet were gloriously warm. I turned on my side, facing the door.

_I don't understand_.

Aymeric had flirted with me – had admitted to it, even. I _knew_ he was attracted to me. He kept saying and doing things that made me want to melt into his arms. To crawl into his bed and never come back out. But then he didn't take me up on an outright offer.

Why? I puzzled over that. If I was saying yes, why should it matter if I was fevered, or maybe a little drunk?

_Maybe it's because I've been crying all over the place_. I shifted, turning over on my back. _Gods know, I'm not a great beauty, especially not when I'm_... I rubbed my eyes, feeling how swollen they were. _Yeah, I probably look like I've been punched in the face a couple times. Not the most fetching look, Berylla._

I sighed, and shifted again, uncomfortably, as my body tried to invent sensations that weren't there. My skin tingled, anticipating touches that weren't going to happen; desire coiled, biting at my loins, hungry for something – for some _one_. I'd already been going without – famine after the feast. And now, with someone like Aymeric so close and yet refusing...it was like being forced to only _look_ at the delicious food, when you were starving.

I woke to a soft touch on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Milinne standing by the bed.

I yawned, and sat up a little. “Hm?”

“It is close to supper time, my lady,” she told me, “and I thought perhaps you would care for a good wash-up before eating.”

“Berylla.”

She cocked her head at me in question.

“Please...just call me Berylla. Or if you must, Mistress will do, but...I'm not a lady.” I snorted quietly. “Not by birth or by manner, gods know.”

“If you're certain that you would prefer that...”

“I really would.” I rubbed sleep out of my eyes. “A wash-up, you said?”

“Yes.” She turned, picking up something from a dresser behind her – I hadn't noticed it earlier, but then I usually didn't notice such things. When she turned back to me, she handed me a fluffy blue robe. “I will take you to the bathing chamber. Will you require any help?”

I laughed a little as I threw the blankets back and got out of the bed. “I won't, thanks.” _Fevered, yes. Decrepit, no._

I pulled my tunic and small-clothes off, and put the robe on, quickly – there was a little bit of a draft, and this _was_ Ishgard, after all.

She smiled a little, and led me out of the room, and down the hall.

The bathing chamber was as big as the guest room, and I looked around it, impressed. “Goodness. This is...actually nicer than the bathing chamber at House Fortemps. Quite a bit nicer.”

Milinne smiled widely, a dimple appearing on her left cheek. “Lord Aymeric is a frugal man. But when he decided to renovate this house, he had firm ideas about priorities.”

“A really good bathing chamber, and a fine kitchen, first?” I asked, lightly.

She dimpled again. “Towels are just here, and you'll find soaps in that cabinet. I'll see to your clothes, and they should be ready for you when you return to your room.”

I nodded my thanks, and she left, closing the door.

I looked around a little as I got a towel, and turned on the taps to the tub. There was the door that I had come in through, and another one, in the wall to the right. The door into the hall had a simple lever type handle, but this second door had a keyhole – it could be locked. _Interesting_.

But there was hot water practically calling my name – far more interesting.

I rummaged in the cabinet that Milinne had indicated – most of the soap was wrapped in blue paper, but there was also a single bar wrapped up in pink. I lifted it and the scent of roses wafted up to me. I unwrapped it, setting aside the pink paper.

_Not that I'm about to admit to liking roses. Wouldn't do a thing for that tough Warrior of Light image, would it?_ I laughed to myself, and took the bar of soap to the tub.

I had made the water very hot, and steam rose in clouds. I shed the robe and got in, hissing a little. It was a large tub, meant for long soaks, clearly. There was even a little ledge and a head-rest on one end, away from the taps.

I set about scrubbing myself. I'd washed up now and again – whenever I had the chance, as was my usual habit when “out in the field.” But water wasn't easy to come by in the Sea of Clouds, and I felt as if grime and grit had embedded itself in my hide in places. _It's a wonder I can't smell myself. Ugh, no wonder Aymeric said no. I'm gross._

But as I scrubbed my hair and rinsed it, as I cleansed away the sand and soot and sweat, I slowly realized that I felt – okay. Almost normal, except for the lingering ache.

I let the water out of the tub, and ran a little more – cooler, now – rinsing myself a second time. _I don't think I'll ever “get over” losing Haurchefant. But I know he wouldn't want me to be like this...and I still need to stop the archbishop. I can't do that if I'm wallowing in grief and self-pity._

I got out, and dried myself off. Put on the robe again. Set my hand on the doorknob, and walked out into the hall. _Time to get back to work_.

As Milinne had promised, my clothes were clean and dry and waiting for me. I dressed, and brushed my hair – and noticed that my hair tie was missing. For a moment I frowned, then shrugged.

I stepped out into the hall again, leaving the guest room door slightly open, and took myself downstairs.

Milinne was in the kitchen, and looked up as I came in. “Ah, Mistress Berylla. You look much better rested now.”

“I am. The bath helped a hell of a lot. Thank you again.”

She gave me her dimpled smile, and returned her attention to the stove.

_Alphinaud's in Tailfeather. I should go._

“I see you're awake.”

I turned, to see Aymeric standing in the doorway. I cocked my head a little, seeing sweat on his shirt. _I wonder what he's been up to_. But I said only, “Yes. I'm feeling a lot better.”

“Will you eat with us, before you go?”

_I should just go._

I looked down. “I really appreciate the offer, and it smells wonderful...but I'm a day behind now, and I really can't.”

“Some other time, perhaps,” Milinne said. “For surely there will be other times when you can visit us, no?”

I smiled at her. “I certainly hope so. You've been more than kind.”

I moved out into the hallway. Aymeric followed me, and when I would have kept walking, he put his hand on my arm.

“What is it?”

He held up his other hand. Looped around his fingers was my hair tie. “May I?”

I remembered only then how he had tugged the tie loose, this morning. _He kept it with him all day...? No. No speculation, Berylla. Not now._

“Oh...yes.” I stood still, and let him step behind me. I shut my eyes when his fingers combed through my hair, forcing away the instant flare of desire. _Not_ _ **now**_ _, dammit_.

He put my hair into a tail, and then set his hands on my shoulders, gently rubbing his thumbs along the back of my neck.

“I need to get going,” I murmured. But I didn't move.

“I know.” He sighed. “Go safely.”

I started walking. As I turned the corner, I fished in my belt pouch for the bird-whistle that Haurchefant had given me. I hadn't actually ridden Midnight yet. _It's time._


	32. Idyllic

We touched down in Tailfeather in the early hours. I took Midnight over to an open space along the picket line that served for any birds “just passing through,” and fed her. While she gobbled up the greens in the bucket, I gave her a quick but thorough brushing. She'd been fabulous – just as Haurchefant had no doubt intended. As I finished grooming her, she turned her head and nibbled my vest delicately, making a throaty chuckling noise. I stroked the feathers on the top of her head, under the band of her bridle, and she half-closed her eyes, chuckling again.

“You're a very good girl,” I crooned to her, and she stretched her wings and neck, and then nodded her head a few times. I couldn't help but laugh.

I let her stand there, and turned towards the inn. I had only started walking towards it when the door opened, and Alphinaud stepped out.

He saw me immediately, and hurried over to meet me. “Are you all right?”

I held my arms out from my sides. “All better. See?”

He shook his head a little, but didn't comment. I could see the lingering worry in his eyes, but I was content to let it alone.

“I've a mind to eat something,” I told him. He only rolled his eyes a little, and I smiled.

“I'll rouse Y'Shtola.”

“We'll be on the road in an hour, I promise.”

Crossing the Dravanian lands wasn't as bad as Alphinaud had feared, and we made excellent time. I didn't fly Midnight – neither of the birds Alphinaud and Y'Shtola rode had such training. But she was as energetic and willing on the road as she had been in the air. So energetic, in fact, that I didn't have to make conversation as we went along. _I'm going to give her some extra treats tonight when I feed her._

Fortunately, Alphinaud was fine with discussing our destination with Y'Shtola. He and Alisaie had been born in Sharlayan, but they had been mere babes when the city had been abandoned. He had little to go on but stories from his family, and paintings that had been brought back. Y'Shtola, on the other hand, had lived in the city for years, studying esoteric subjects of various sorts.

“Master Matoya refused to leave when everyone else fled,” Y'Shtola said. “She lives on the western side of the Thaliak river. In better times, visiting her merely meant crossing the bridge and tracking her down – usually she preferred to be in the Great Library. Now? I'm not entirely sure. The last time I spoke with her, she mentioned living in a cave to keep herself hidden.”

We approached a strange looking stone wall – strange looking, I realized, because it was man-sized and not dragon-sized like so much of the other architecture I had seen in these lands. I cocked my head at it. “A wall that any dragon can easily fly over?”

“It was more of a marker than any sort of true defensive effort,” Y'Shtola shrugged. “But this is the pass that will take us down the mountains into the Thaliak valley, and to whatever is left of the city. Come.”

The pass was steep, and Midnight for the first time started to misbehave. She kept leaping up, wanting to take off and fly, but I wouldn't let her. Her antics agitated the other two birds, and by the time we finally reached the bottom of the narrow path, I had no choice but to send her away back into her aetherial containment, and summon up Joy instead.

As I handled my bird problems, Alphinaud and Y'Shtola looked out over the valley as she pointed out landmarks. “Yes – there, you see? The great dome, or what there is of it now. And there's the river. Matoya will be on the other side of it.”

“Is there something wrong with the bridge?” Alphinaud asked.

“I can't tell from here. We'll have to go and look.”

I swung up into Joy's saddle. “All right, then, let's go.”

The bridge was broken.

Not just broken, smashed. “Was there some kind of attack?” I wondered aloud, kneeling to inspect the shattered tiles and stone.

Y'Shtola shook her head. “They may have done some of this damage themselves, to complicate or block Imperial progress. The last thing the Sharlayans would want is for Imperial troops to loot the artifacts and books that couldn't be evacuated.”

I grunted. “Well, what now, though?”

“I know another way.” She pointed to the north. “You see the road? We can take that, and there's a second crossing.”

I mounted Joy again. “Let's not waste more time than we have to.”

I took a deep breath, and let the stiff wind dry the sweat off my forehead. _Because we are in a hurry, of course there are complications. Of course there are tasks to be done._

_I was wrong. It's not that the gods have no sense of proportion or justice. They just have no fucking sense at all._

“One moment for clearing away barricade,” the goblin guard mumbled, his voice obscured by his mask. I kept my face to the wind, eyes shut, just breathing, reminding myself to stay calm. _Getting pissed off is what put you out for most of a day, at least in part. Don't be stupid if you don't have to be, Berylla._

“Ah...Berylla?”

“What?” I didn't open my eyes.

Alphinaud's voice took on an urgent tone. “You ah, you might want to back up some. _Now. Right_ _ **now**_ _!_ ”

I blew out my breath, exasperated, and opened my eyes. “What are you talking...”

Then I saw the half-dozen bombs, fuses lit and merrily fizzing away, not ten feet from me.

_Oh for – fuck!_

I dove towards the others as the first bomb exploded.

I felt myself lifted, and could only watch as I sailed right over their heads, flipped end over end twice, and landed on my face in the bushes.

I sat up, further flattening the poor bush that had broken my fall, and staggered to my feet. My ears were ringing so badly that I couldn't hear Alphinaud's words as he ran up to me. I could guess though that he was mildly upset. Even as he took my arm and helped me over to sit on a fallen pillar, he was speaking very fast to the goblin guard, who appeared to be laughing. _Figures. Goblins adore explosions, and they don't much care about bystanders._

Y'Shtola walked over, shaking her head and gently massaging one ear. Alphinaud produced a handkerchief from somewhere, and started dabbing at my face. I leaned away, and grabbed the cloth from him. “Too gentle,” I mumbled, and scrubbed the handkerchief across my face and my arms. Most of what came away was plain dirt, and only a few spots and streaks of blood showed on the cloth. I blinked away more dirt, and then pressed the cloth to my brow above my right eye. _Okay, that one stings._

Y'Shtola put out her hand, and a little stream of green energy flowed into me. I could feel the coolness of it, and a taste of mint and honey filled my mouth. _Her magic never did_ _ **that**_ _before. I guess the Lifestream did a lot of things to her._

My ears were still ringing, but I nodded to her, and smiled a little. “Thanks.”

Alphinaud dug in his belt pouch, and gestured. I looked at him, confused, and he tugged on the hand that was holding the handkerchief. I lowered it, and watched as he opened a little jar of something. He dabbed his thumb into the jar and then spread some kind of ointment on my forehead. It was cool – and then burned, stinging in the cut on my eyebrow. I winced a little, but didn't complain.

I sat for a few moments, collecting my scattered wits. By the time I could stand up again, my hearing was somewhat better. Y'Shtola gestured us forward, and I followed her across the now open bridge.

_Thunk. Splash._ “I hate bugs.” _Thunk. Splash._ “I hate frogs!”

Y'Shtola laughed, and I glared at her past the hair that draped across my face. I was soaking wet, kneeling fully clothed in a stream so shallow I couldn't understand why there was a forty-foot-tall bridge over it – collapsed or not. I had a discarded, bent metal bowl in my hand, trying to scoop enough water to wash my hair. Insect webbing and frog slime made disgusting garlands on my arms where they had dribbled down from my head. My skin crawled.

“It isn't that bad,” she chuckled.

“It's _in_ ,” I growled, as I tried again to scoop up enough water to do some good, “my _hair_.”

“Oh, come now. I've seen you grinning ear to ear with the _entrails_ of monsters in your hair. That can't be what's bothering you.”

I fell silent.

“Alphinaud told me about your friend.” Y'Shtola came closer to me. “I'm sorry that he died.”

“Not your fault,” I mumbled. _Maybe if I lay down flat in the stream I can get enough water to rinse this shit out of my hair._

“Berylla.”

“What?”

“You're doing yourself harm.”

“Am not.” _Not right now anyway._

“Are you going to attempt to lie to one who has healed you before and knows exactly what you're prone to doing to yourself?”

“I'm fine. I rested. Nothing more to say.”

“I disagree.”

“You're welcome to do so, but I'm not discussing this, Y'Shtola. I love you as a sister, I do, and I'm _really_ glad that you're back with us. But please. Don't pick at this wound. It's barely scabbed over and I'm just not ready.”

“You will have to deal with whatever is wrong, you know.”

“Not today I won't.” I looked at her, scraping my hair away from my eyes. “I swear to you, I'm fully planning on taking time to – to process everything that's happened. But there isn't time _now_. Thousands of people will die if we don't stop the archbishop, even if he had the purest of motives and never turned his power against his own folk. Just existing as primals, his knights will drain the land to the point of ruin. Next to that risk, me having some emotional problems is a fucking joke.”

“You are right,” she sighed. Then she stepped over to me. “Here, give me that. I think I know a trick to help you.”

When I had been about to meet Moenbryda, I had imagined an old woman with a staff, and gray hair, and a demanding manner.

Matoya was all of that, with none of the elegance. She was stubbornly plain, wearing her wrinkles like badges of honor. I liked her immediately.

Y'Shtola traded barbed comments with the old woman for a moment, and then they both grinned at each other, and chuckled.

She turned her head slightly, and pinned Alphinaud with a measuring stare. “So. This one, in the fancy duds. That's Louisoix's granddaughter, I take it?”

Alphinaud winced, and I turned my head a bit so he wouldn't see me grinning.

He cleared his throat, and essayed a small, polite bow. “Grandson, begging your pardon,” he said diffidently. “You...knew my grandfather, my lady?”

“...Knew him? We were constantly at each other's throats!” She laughed, a rusty sort of noise. _Why do I get the feeling that's not how she actually laughs?_

“He was a stubborn bugger, was your grandfather. Never a dull moment when he was around, though, I'll give him that. As for you, boy, I've known you since you were a rosy-cheeked babe.”

Alphinaud's ears turned pink. But ever the diplomat, he rallied, putting on one of his more charming smiles. “And my sister, too, I gather. May I say what an honor it is to meet you again, my lady.”

I couldn't be sure, since her hat obscured part of her face, but I got the feeling that Matoya had raised an eyebrow at him.

“Spare me the pleasantries, boy. I'll wager my remaining teeth you didn't come here to flirt with a wrinkly old woman. Now, out with it. What do you need of me?”

We traded glances, and I nodded to Alphinaud. _He's the best one to explain_.

When Alphinaud finally finished, Matoya stood silent for a time. Her hand on her staff tightened, the knuckles whitening. “Azys Lla. I never thought I'd hear that name again.”

Y'Shtola asked, “You are familiar with it?”

“As familiar as one can get from poring over musty old tomes,” Matoya answered. “The Allagans set the isle afloat not long before the sun set on their empire. Old Louisoix and I often talked about it. The place is home to a research facility dedicated to finding ways of mastering mighty beings such as primals and dragons. And find ways it did, too – _frightening_ ones.”

She frowned. “Such secrets as lie buried on Azys Lla aren't fit to see the light of day. And you say a band of dragon-baiting fools are trying to dig them up?”

Alphinaud nodded. “And to make matters worse, the Ascians have a hand in their plot. They must be stopped, no matter the cost.”

Matoya was silent a moment more. “I see. Very well.”

Y'Shtola raised her brows. “Truly? I had not anticipated such a response. Could it be that the presence of young blood has stirred your own?”

“That pertness is going to cost you your tail one day, my girl. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

Y'Shtola's tail curled towards her back, and her ears went back for a moment. This time, it was Alphinaud who had to hide his laughter.

Of course, her willingness to help us didn't mean she was going to hand us a book, neatly wrapped up, with a bow on top.

“You two are staying with me.” She pointed at Y'Shtola and Alphinaud.

I cocked my head. “Not that I object to going inside an obviously dangerous place alone,” I said, “but ah...I've no idea what I'm looking for. Usually, I rely on Alphinaud's academic talents in these sorts of things.”

Matoya wiggled her fingers at me, shooing me away. “If you can't deal with the monsters there and still recall two simple words – _aetheric converger_ – then maybe you shouldn't be trusted with an aetherial ram in the first place.”

“Eh, fair enough.” I grinned a little. “I'll write it on my hand or something.”

To my delight, I saw her clamping her mouth shut, trying not to laugh.

I looked over at my friends. “Be back in a while, then.”

It had been twilight when I entered the Library, having scrounged up a few adventurers from the area, every one of them a treasure hunter.

They'd been of great help, despite having no idea what I was really in there for beyond exploring. They had even accepted my flimsy excuse of “just tired,” when I'd collapsed again in an Echo-vision after finally destroying the gigantic, weirdly cubic automaton in the archives.

I stepped back out into the light of morning, my eyes watering as the sun struck my face. 

I took pity on the very dejected, bruised, and dusty treasure hunters, and handed them each a bit of extra coin. “Can't be helped,” I told them. “And at least now you can warn off your fellows. No treasure to be found here – just books.”

_Alphinaud would have a cat if he heard me say that. But it's true for these folks. Besides, a warning like that will actually keep people away from here._

I took myself back to the old woman's cave.

As Midnight flapped her way across the sky, I thought hard about the vision I had had this time. A very short one, but now a fifth crystal within that strange circle had been – reactivated? Recharged? Reawakened? I was completely lost as to what exactly was happening. My power didn't seem to be much affected – and certainly I didn't have my Blessing back. But something had to be changing. _Maybe I'm just not sensitive enough to really detect it_.

“Well?”

I handed over the tome, and Matoya ran her fingers across the binding. “Yes, this is it all right.” 

“Y'Shtola! Boy! Put down whatever it is you're doing, and come here. Berylla has brought the tome.”

The two of them came over willingly enough. Y'Shtola wiped her hands on a cloth. “Thank the gods. But another minute under Master Matoya's exacting supervision, and I would certainly have lost my mind─or perhaps merely my temper.”

Alphinaud had a streak of dust across one cheek, but his eyes sparkled. “Well, I for one appreciate the exacting supervision. In the short while we have been here, I feel I have gained a far better understanding of arcane entities than I did during my entire time at the Studium.” He smiled a little, and his words took on a daydreaming quality. “Should the opportunity present itself, I should very much like to employ this knowledge for the betterment of mankind─create a new variety of Carbuncle, perhaps...”

Matoya looked up sharply. “Don't get ahead of yourself, boy. Louisoix's grandson or no, it'll take another decade under me before you can call yourself a scholar, and a deal more than that to make you a scholar worth a damn.”

Alphinaud looked honestly shocked for a moment. Y'Shtola nudged him with her elbow. “As you may have gathered, Master Matoya is not easily impressed.”

She set the book on the table, and traced the design embossed on the cover. With a shiver, the book's covers opened, the pages ruffling. Every hint of dirt and dust vanished, and for a second I could  _ see _ the letters on the pages writhing and changing. “There. It is deciphered.”

She flipped the book closed and tossed it to Alphinaud, who caught it hastily. “Take it and good luck to you.” And without another word, she turned her back on us.

Alphinaud bowed politely to her back, and turned to walk out. I glanced at Y'Shtola, but she made a little gesture with her hand.  _ I'll catch up in a minute _ , she mouthed to me.

I nodded and walked away, but instead of catching up to Alphinaud, who was already outside in the herb garden, I hung about a little.  _ Eavesdropping is so rude...but there's something wrong _ .

“Girl. Wait.”

Matoya's voice had become soft. I strained my ears to catch the next, gentle words.

“When did the light fade from your eyes?”

_ What? _

“I should have known that it would not escape your notice.” Y'Shtola sighed. “It has been this way since I returned from the Lifestream. An aftereffect of the teleportation magic I invoked, most likely.” Her voice was hard, as I'd never heard it before; a stark contrast to the sorrow in her master's voice.

“They are called forbidden spells for a reason. What were you thinking, girl?”

My hand went to my mouth.  _ Oh gods. _

“I have no regrets. I did what was necessary – to keep my promise to Minfilia.” A moment of silence. “Besides,” her voice lightened, “It afforded me the rare opportunity to wander the aether – a once in a lifetime experience.”

“I need not tell you that it consumes your very life force to see by sensing the aether around you.” Matoya sounded anguished – and resigned. “Take  _ care _ of yourself, do you hear me?”

“I will.”

I moved, hearing footsteps, and had myself at the cave entrance before Y'Shtola rounded the corner.

_ And she lectures  _ _** me ** _ _ about not hurting myself _ . I paid only scant attention as we sorted ourselves out to return to Ishgard. It hurt me to think that I hadn't noticed something so vital. If we had found her sooner, would she still have lost her sight?


	33. Neither Easy Nor Simple

We walked into the Congregation in the late afternoon of the next day. Aymeric was standing at the large table in the main room, and as soon as our little group walked in, he smiled warmly. “Ah, you are returned!”

Alphinaud smiled as well, then introduced Y'Shtola. I wasn't at all surprised when she gave Aymeric the barest of bows.

“My lord. Pray excuse me for forgoing due pleasantries, but we seek your counsel regarding the aetherial ram. Though we now possess the knowledge to build such a device, we yet lack an appropriate source of energy with which to power it. We believe, however, that Ishgard may possess the solution to our problem.”

Aymeric nodded. “You need not apologize, my lady. Full eager am I to learn of your progress. Please, tell me of this energy source that you believe we possess.”

As Y'Shtola spoke, he listened gravely. Unlike Alphinaud, Y'Shtola dispensed with any technical terms, and stated the basics quickly and concisely. When she finished, Aymeric put a hand on his chin, thinking.

“And you are certain that the Eye can lend its power to this aetheric converger?”

Alphinaud nodded. “At Estinien's command – yes.”

Aymeric nodded. “Very well. I shall speak with him.”

“My thanks, Ser Aymeric.”

Aymeric smiled again. “Nay, my friend, it is I who should thank you – as should every Ishgardian.” His eyes slid to mine. “You labor in our name, with scarcely a care for your own safety.”

I shrugged a little. I'd left my hair down – on purpose. The jagged cut across my brow looked nasty as hell still, and I didn't need anyone fussing over me.

Eager to get on with things, Alphinaud made our excuses, and we headed for the airship landing.

Cid was overjoyed to see us, and even more excited to see the book that Y'Shtola handed to him. He hadn't even finished thanking her when we heard footsteps.

“Forgive us our lateness,” Aymeric said, as he and Estinien joined our little group.

_ Lateness? Gods, was Estinien standing behind a screen back there? That took less than fifteen minutes! _

Estinien stepped forward, and held up the Eye. As always, it glowed malevolently. Y'Shtola drew in a quick breath.

“By the Twelve! It  _ seethes _ .” She shook her head. “It is a wonder such power can be contained, much less controlled.” The look she gave Estinien was deeply troubled. Estinien, naturally, ignored her.

Cid shouted to his crew, and started handing out tasks, even as he began to scan the tome in his hand.

“I believe we won't be needed for the moment,” I observed with a little smile.

Cid turned back towards us for a moment. “Unless something goes wrong, we should be finished by morning. Come check on us then, eh?”

I walked with Alphinaud and Y'Shtola, back to the manor. “It will be good to rest comfortably,” Y'Shtola commented.

“You can have the use of my room,” I told her, as we approached the door. “I'm not sure...if I can stay here.”

Alphinaud frowned. “You know the Count would never forbid you, Berylla.”

“No, he wouldn't.” I tugged on my hair a little. “But I don't know if  _ I  _ can handle it. He was so...”

“...I understand.”

We entered, and made our way to the big sitting room. The sun streamed in through the westward windows. Standing in front of them was the Count himself. He turned as we came in.

“Ah. You have returned.” He bowed to Y'Shtola. “A new face accompanies you, as well.”

“A new face for you, but an old friend for us,” Alphinaud smiled, and once more introductions were made. Y'Shtola was polite, and made slightly more conversation than she had with Aymeric, but within just a few minutes, she begged to be excused.

“My recent travels have left me very weary, and if we are to make yet another journey in the morning, I fear I must rest.”

Alphinaud went with her, saying he would return.

Alone with the Count, I turned to him, feeling a little uncertain.

But there was no anger, and no raw grief. He set his hand on my shoulder. “I apologize,” he said, “for my outburst. You should not have had to see that.”

I shook my head. “You should never have had to suffer such pain. No one should.” I looked down at my feet. “I...If my being here causes you pain, I will...”

“None of that sort of thing,” he said firmly. “I cannot blame you for what happened, and I do not.”

I looked up at him. His eyes held a tenderness – not the same as Haurchefant, but so much alike that my chest ached. I blinked away tears, and tried to smile.

He squeezed my shoulder. “He would not have told you, but when Haurchefant begged me to accept you into our household, he described you as “hope incarnate.” At the time, I assumed that he was waxing lyrical, as was his wont. But I have come to see that he simply spoke the truth. You _are_ hope─a shining beacon that shall guide the people of Ishgard through the raging snowstorm.”

He stepped back, and gestured to the house steward, who fetched something from the corner of the room, and brought it over.

_ A shield? That's Haurchefant's shield...! _

I couldn't hold back a tiny sob as my hands reached for it.

“A memento,” the Count said as my fingers touched the shattered steel. “Were my son here, he would have wished to fight at your side in the battle to come. Take care, and return to us!”

“I will.” I couldn't say more.

I took the shield to my room. When I opened the door, I blinked to see Y'Shtola sitting on the bed.  _ Oh, I forgot that I said she could use my room. Obviously I'm pretty tired myself _ .

“Berylla? What do you have there?”

“I...I can just put this away, and let you rest. You have to be exhausted.”

She tilted her head. “This is part of what's been bothering you so. Isn't it?”

I sighed, and shut the door. “It's...this was Haurchefant's shield.”

“The friend who died.”

“He was also my lover for a time,” I told her quietly. “And my beloved. No one else really knew about it – after all, why should they have needed to know? But I...I...”

I sat down on the end of the bed, and held the shield to me. Tears dropped onto the mangled unicorn. “I miss him,” I managed.

“A lover?” Y'Shtola leaned over and put one arm around my shoulders. “And this is all you have of him now, is it?”

“He gave me one other thing,” I sniffed.

Y'Shtola seemed to stiffen at my words, and I looked at her.

Her eyes were wide, and I realized that she'd leaped to a conclusion. “No, no! Nothing like  _ that _ .” I shook my head. “I meant my new bird.”

“Do you know for certain that you  _ aren't _ ...?”

“Y'Shtola, you would have  _ known _ if that were the case, back in the hinterlands.”

“Perhaps. But if I may ask, how can you be so certain?”

Knowing that she wouldn't believe me, I spread my hands. “You can look if you want – I know you have the capability.”

She stared at me for a moment, then concentrated. I waited, and when she let out a long, sad sigh, I nodded.

She lifted her eyes to mine. “I don't know what to say.”

“There's nothing  _ to _ say.” I tried for a light tone. “At least I don't have to worry about  _ that _ aspect of taking a lover. Though...” I tugged my hair. “I don't want this being common knowledge, if you don't mind.”

“Obviously.” She shook her head. “I understand now, why you've been so...so...”

“Unbalanced?” I suggested, wryly. “I won't lie to you. I've had – am  _ having _ – a very bad time of things right now.”

“Alphinaud has been worried about you.”

“I know. He worries about me a lot. It's a habit of his.”

“It isn't merely habit, Berylla.”

“I know that, too.” I shook my head, not wanting to get into  _ that _ at all.  _ I have no idea how to deal with a teenager's infatuation. _

“Look. You need to rest. I need to be alone to do some thinking.” I stepped over to the door, my words brisk. “So  _ I'm _ going to go, and  _ you're _ going to get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning.”

Before she could say anything more, I stepped out into the hallway.

On my way out, Alphinaud saw me. “Berylla?”

“What is it?”

“Where are you...?”

“I'm going to walk a bit. I need some air.”

“You've been crying again?” He lifted his hand as if to reach out to me.

“Oh.” I wiped at my cheeks hastily. “Well, yes. The Count...he gave me Haurchefant's shield.”

Alphinaud's eyes widened. “A noble gesture.”

“I was  _ very _ moved.” I touched his shoulder. “Don't worry about me, Alphinaud. Not tonight, anyway. I'm going to take it easy, and get plenty of rest for tomorrow.”

“Well...good.” Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around me in a hug.

I hugged him back, needing the contact too much to back away.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” he said into my shoulder. “I hate seeing you cry.”

“Same goes from me to you,” I answered. “But we'll manage to get through this, somehow. We have to.”

“You know that I'm...I'm here for you, if you need me?”

“I know.” I squeezed him one more time, and let him go, stepping back a pace. “And I'm glad.”

I avoided meeting his eyes, knowing that there were things there that I didn't want to face – questions I couldn't handle, hopes I wouldn't answer.

“I'll see you in the morning,” I told him, and walked on down the hallway towards the front door, making good my escape.

Dusk was just beginning to fall as I walked along the long curving paths of the upper parts of the city. The air was warm – well, warm for Ishgard – and I saw many couples wandering among the plantings. I paused near a tall lilac shrub, pretending to smell of the blooms, so that I wouldn't need to look at them.

“Taking the air?”

I looked over my shoulder, to see Aymeric. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.”

He came close, standing at my left shoulder, looking out over the city. His voice lowered, pitched to reach only my ears.

“I am very glad to see you return relatively unharmed. Even more glad to see your eyes less haunted. No, do not look at me. With every eye in the city on me, I have very little privacy, and I would rather not start more rumors than I must.”

“Rumors?”

“Yes. Some of them are amusing enough – and of course the minstrels are making all manner of songs about recent events. Unfortunately the most popular such songs have created the notion that Haurchefant harbored an unrequited love.”

I went stiff with outrage. “What?”

“Calm down. There is more than one such, and many folk appear quite content to treat them all as partial fiction...but their eyes are also now prone to seeing things that might not be there.”

“So you're saying you don't wish to be seen flirting with me?”

His fingers brushed mine. “If all were as I  _ wished _ it, there would be no need for discretion.”

I looked down. “Why are you...” I searched for words. “I would think that all this – rumors, and death, and...just everything... By rights you should be running the other way from me. I've brought you nothing but difficulty and pain.” I paused, and added, “I don't mean things I've done for Ishgard. I mean you, personally. I've exposed your faith as a lie, I've turned your whole life upside down, and your friend has been killed, too. Why do you want anything to do with me?”

“I am glad that everything is upside down,” he murmured. “I would far rather live with the confusion of regaining the truth, than in the blind security of a lie. Especially a lie that was built on greed and arrogance and does nothing more than feed the same. Children starve in the lower streets while nobles feast, and for centuries such injustice was reasoned away as being only the natural order, because the nobles had “better blood.” Now I know better.  _ We _ know better. And we will  _ become _ better for knowing the truth, after the pain of accepting that truth is past.”

“Have you considered that getting involved with me might bring you other kinds of pain?”

“I do not fear it.”

“Right now...I do.”

“Ah. I understand.” His fingers once more brushed mine. “Then know that I am willing to wait as long as you need me to wait, Berylla. All I ask is that you consider me.”

I shut my eyes. “Oh, I will.”

“Good.” He moved off, and I breathed in the scent of lilacs, trembling inside.

_ He's not like Haurchefant _ . I had the feeling that Aymeric wanted more than a simple physical encounter.  _ Can I even handle what he might ask of me? _

I turned around, and headed for the Forgotten Knight.  _ Three beers and I'll sleep, instead of worrying. There's no way tomorrow is going to be easy, or simple _ .


	34. A Blood Red Sky

We had made it. We had pierced the barrier and landed on Azys Lla.

_ But gods, the cost. _

The Enterprise sat at her mooring, making little pinging and ticking sounds as she cooled. Already the three engineers were looking her over, making comments and shaking their heads. Any other time, I might have smiled to see them clucking over the ship like worried aunties.

Alphinaud's eyes were still on the sky, though all trace of the aerial battle was long gone. My heart twisted to see the tears on his cheeks. I stood beside him, and set my hand on his shoulder.

“Twelve grant her mercy...” he whispered, bowing his head. “Brief though our time together was, Ysayle was a true friend─a gentle soul who fought for her beliefs. She...she would have made a fine Scion.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Y'Shtola's eyes were on the sky as she spoke. “What is a Scion but one who fights for our cause? Our hopes survive thanks to her sacrifice. Let that be enough.” She lowered her head, and looked at the rest of us. “Yet I cannot help but wonder: how came she to know of our presence here?”

“From Hraesvelgr, I would wager. He will have felt my channeling of the Eye's power.” Estinien's voice lowered, as if speaking to himself. “It would seem they were able to make peace with one another in the end.”

I squeezed Alphinaud's shoulder once, and let him go. “She gave us our chance. Let's not waste it.”

“Gilly?” I muttered to Biggs. “He named the thing _Gilly_?”

“Maybe we should have let him have that dog he wanted,” the big engineer sighed.

I bit down a laugh, and tried to pay attention. The white sphere hovered with only a slight wobble, and a pleasant voice issued from it. Wedge insisted it was a female voice, and none of us cared to argue...even though it was difficult to think of a talking ball as any sort of “person,” for me anyway.

But, the guidance node did serve its purpose – marking out a route for us to follow. The Enterprise was too damaged – and possibly too large – for exploring, so we were going to have go on foot. The node mentioned a danger of being attacked by the isle's defenses, and I snorted a little. _So everything that sees us will probably want to kill us. What else is new?_

Wedge saw us off, imploring us, “Take good care of Gilly!”

I walked off so he wouldn't see me rolling my eyes.

I was alone, now. I worried about the others – they had stayed behind, to delay the Imperials who had _somehow_ managed to land and explore. I'd used the Allagan teleportation device, and my last view of them was their backs, as they faced off against at least a dozen troops.

I walked along a path made lively by a rippling stream. The ground was covered in healthy, green grass, and there were flowers here and there. Bushes and a few trees rose up at a distance from the path. The place might have been pretty, if not for the unearthly clouds and the strange rock-like arches of crystallized aether.

I heard a hiss from above, and looked up at a bluff nearby, catching sight of a scaly, spiked head. Red eyes glowered at me, and the drake hissed again before retreating.

 _Oh, and the wildlife is so friendly. But at least it's_ _ **natural**_ _wildlife and not Allagan chimeras_.

A voice sounded in my head. _So, thy journey hath led thee to this accursed place_.

“Oh, it's you again.” I turned my head, seeing the little dragon hovering just behind me. “Have things finally interested you, then?”

_Canst thou hear it, mortal? The ceaseless keening of my kindred, steeped in five thousand years of suffering..._

I cocked my head, and realized that I had been hearing such a sound. “Yes.”

_Long before the Ishgardians and their base betrayal, there lived still more wicked men whose ambitions knew no bounds. Fearful of our might and covetous of our power, they devised a means to enslave dragon-kind... Their vile misdeeds did set in motion a train of events whose repercussions are felt to this day._

“I already knew how foul the Allagans were. Didn't you rummage around in my head? I saw what they did to contain Bahamut. I had no doubt even then that I hadn't learned the worst they had done.”

Midgardsormr bobbed once, the little ruby eyes flashing. _Beyond, thou wilt find one of my first brood. Hark thou unto her words. Partake thou of her pain. Think thou upon the suffering that the conflict betwixt our kinds hath begot._

I turned to look up the path, and then started forward.

Tears wet my cheeks, not for myself but for the great dragon, whose suffering I had witnessed. Her heart, aching after so many thousands of years – that pain called to me. My own grief was a fraction of hers, but for a tiny moment, two beings sang the same song. A phrase, no more.

_I could never withstand so long a song of mourning. And she will never be finished, never forgive herself, never move on._

_I can't be like that. I can't stop moving._

The place of stars...

Six crystals. All, now, shining once more, stronger than before, their connections reaffirmed. Something deep inside my soul calmed, as a voice I had feared was gone from me breathed across it.

_**Beloved daughter...the Light resides within thy heart once again. Valiantly didst thou overcome thy many trials.** _

Midgardsormr swept past me, his form nothing but a shadow between me and the stars that surrounded us. _Thou hast broken down the wall I built around thee, and partaken of thy mistress' blessing once more. Strong art thou, mortal...stronger than any other of thy kind. Thou art worthy to bear Her blessing._

I woke, lying on my side in the grass, the great, suffering, chained dragon gazing down on me.

I sat up, then stood. I felt... _whole_. Weeks had passed since Midgardsormr stripped the Mother's blessing from me. I had almost grown used to the absence – even though five times before I had felt a rekindling, witnessed the reawakening of those strange crystals in that place within and beyond the world...the _emptiness_ had never changed.

 _Now_ – now that emptiness was filled to overflowing. I felt so light that I thought I might be able to fly just by willing it so.

Midgardsormr – his small, traveling form – flapped lazily around me, and he seemed to smile.

_The covenant bound me to thee, but it would seem our fates were mingled from the first. Though I will not fight thy battles, I will yet lend thee my wings._

His form began to glow, and white sparkles of light fell off of him like sparks from a roaring fire. The light flared, blinding me for a moment

When my eyes cleared, I stared up in shock at the magnificent creature that now stood on the ground before me, wings raised.

While still vastly smaller than his true form, Midgardsormr was no longer cat sized, or cute. Now, he was fully as large as Vidofnir. His scales were a shimmering black that threw back rainbows when the light struck them. His ruby eyes regarded me with fondness.

_Come warrior. Let us do battle with Darkness!_

Everything else we had passed over and through had been in a state of disrepair. _Five thousand years without maintenance will do that, I suppose._

This place, that the guidance system had called “The Flagship,” dwarfed any structure I'd ever seen – including the dragon-built towers of the Mists. The moment I had landed, I had felt as if I had entered a truly alien place. The deck hummed with power, all its surfaces gleaming as if they had been freshly polished. The stink of fuel and machine oils was less, somehow, but the very lines of the ship made me feel tense, as if unseen eyes watched me from every side.

 _Those three gigantic statues overlooking the whole thing aren't helping either._ I nervously glanced up at the face of the mostly-female looking statue as I followed the guidance node the last bit of the way.

Another of the odd Allagan terminals stood in the archway, and the node clicked and whirred to itself for a moment. “Restrictions lifted,” it intoned after a few moments. “You may enter the facility at your leisure. Ending guidance.”

“Thanks,” I said, awkwardly.

“I am pleased to have been of service to you, Mistress Berylla. Please send my regards to Master Wedge.”

I gaped. But before I could think to say anything, the node gave a final spin.

“Deactivating.”

Its hum faded away, and its lights stopped twinkling. With a slow grace, it sank to the ground, and went dark.

 _Well. Wedge isn't going to like_ _ **that**_ _one bit._ I sighed a little. _Time to contact the others, if I can_.

I stood still for a long moment. The fight had been brutal. I ached, and I was exhausted, but I wasn't ready yet to leave.

I turned over in my mind the archbishop's last words. “What _are_ you?!”

 _What am I, indeed. I thought I knew. Maybe I don't, after all_. I had faced down things that I had been completely unprepared for, and survived. I had moved with a certainty in those moments, as if I had seen my enemy's movements a hundred times before, yet I could not fathom _how_ I knew just what to do. I had resisted primals and Ascians and even my own foolhardiness. I knew so many things about myself – and yet I knew almost nothing.

I shook off the weird thoughts. _My head is already hurting. Time enough to dwell on deep philosophical questions later. Preferably after a beer or two_.

I heard footsteps echoing off the metal deck, and turned.

Estinien paced up to me, his thin lips curved in the barest smile. “It is over?” he inquired. “I had hoped that mine would be the hand to end it...but knowing you, there was little chance of that.”

“Don't show up late, then,” I joked, with a wry smile.

He laughed, but there was an edge to the sound.

 _I guess he's actually a little put out_. I dug into my pouch, and retrieved the Eye. “I believe this belongs in your charge.”

He took it from me, and nodded once. “It would seem that it served you well.” He turned from me, looking at the sword that the archbishop had dropped. The huge ruby in the center of the pommel winked in the light as Estinien moved toward the sword. He knelt beside it, and put his free hand over the gemstone.

His fingers seemed to glow with dark fire for a moment, and he grunted as his hand twisted, as if digging into stubborn soil. My eyes widened as he lifted his hand. An Eye – the exact match to the one I'd just handed back to him – rested in his palm.

 _So now we have accounted for both of those damned things. I wonder how we get rid of them. I have a feeling it's not a good idea to keep them around_...

I opened my mouth to ask Estinien that very question, when he spoke.

“At last. My toils shall finally be at an end...”

I smiled a little.

And then, Estinien _screamed_.

The Eyes both burst into dark-red flames, engulfing the dragoon in an instant. He stiffened, his mouth twisted in agony. A deafening roar drowned out all other sounds.

He threw his head back, and I could see a fiery glow coming from beneath his visor.

_**Drink deep of my rage!** _

I fell back a step, my hands covering my ears, as that final roar shook me to my bones.

And then – silence.

I looked back at Estinien – and stared up in horror.

_Nidhogg!_

The wyrm glared at me, and for one second I was certain that I was about to die. I was weakened, exhausted from my fight. Mine was the hand that had struck Nidhogg down. Mine was the power that stood the best chance of thwarting him. Surely he would murder me right here and now, before winging his way to Ishgard to destroy it utterly.

The great beast growled, and shoved off from the deck, wings beating furiously. All I could do was watch as he gained height and burst through the glassed-in ceiling above, and out into the world.

Then I turned and ran.

Midgardsormr appeared before I reached the archway leading out. His head swung as Nidhogg roared again, shards of glass crashing to the ground as the entire ship shuddered with explosions. _Nidhogg, my child...what hath thy fury made of thee...?_

I scrambled up onto his back, and he nodded, one eye regarding me. _Let us away_.

The Enterprise was already airborne as Midgardsormr swooped out of the belly of the Flagship, just as another set of explosions racked the structure. Fire blossomed outward, and the dragon dodged the flames easily and made for the airship.

We came close, and flew alongside the Enterprise. Cid laughed, and shouted over to me, “Do you always have to cut it so bloody close?!”

I shook my head, grinning to hide the fear that made a cold place in my belly.

I saw Alphinaud and Y'Shtola exchanging words. Alphinaud turned to look at me, and even from here I could see his love-struck expression. _That's another worry. I've got to talk to him and sort him out...somehow._

Then I noticed Y'Shtola's troubled expression, her questioning glance, and I knew without needing to read lips what she said. _Where is Estinien?_

A whole collection of people were waiting on the airship landing. I could see Aymeric's armor glinting in the sun, and Tataru's feathered hat; Lucia of course stood with her Lord Commander. Count Edmont, Artoirel, and even Emmanellain stood waiting. Four Temple Knights stood by as well, standing at parade rest. _I hope they're there for ceremonial reasons rather than any anticipated trouble._

The Enterprise swooped in, graceful as a dancer, and docked so neatly that even Wedge wasn't bumped in the slightest. But Cid's nearly-perfect docking was immediately eclipsed by my entrance.

Midgardsormr came down out of the sky at a steep angle, like an eagle stooping on prey, and then at the last moment his wings spread wide. I could feel aether moving as well as the powerful muscles, allowing him to brake in the air without back-winging, and instead to drop the last ten feet as lightly as a creature a third his size.

The Temple Knights took up positions behind Aymeric, their great bows drawn and ready to fire. I knew when they noticed _me_ , sitting on the dragon's back as calmly as I might have sat upon Midnight. Even as the gathered folk began to murmur, the arrows points aimed at me and Midgardsormr wavered.

Aymeric was smiling as he held up his hand, ordering the knights to stand down.

“I daresay you are the first soul in Ishgardian history to arrive in our city upon dragon-back. This scene shall be remembered for a thousand years to come.”

Midgardsormr laughed, a rumbling sound, and I joined in. Fortunately I was far enough away that the strain in my laughter couldn't be noticed.

Alphinaud and Y'Shtola made the formal announcement of the success of our mission, and Aymeric was opening his mouth to thank us – or make a speech – when Midgardsormr decided _he_ had something to say.

 _Your struggles are not yet over, mortals_.

I held in a mildly hysterical giggle at the looks of utter shock on almost every face in front of us. Only Aymeric seemed to take in stride the sensation of hearing a dragon's voice for the first time.

“Whom do I have the pleasure...?” he asked, his tone respectful. No hint of fear, disgust, or even surprise – only acceptance, as if he entertained dragons as emissaries every day of the week.

 _I am Midgardsormr. I have journeyed with Hydaelyn's champion and observed her deeds in the conflict between man and dragon_.

Aymeric mouthed the name, his eyes going blank with shock for just a moment. I nodded to him, affirming the dragon's words.

_Tell me, children of Thordan. Do you desire peace?_

Instantly Aymeric went to one knee, as did Count Edmont. The older man winced in pain, but he didn't let it stop him. His sons stared at him in shock for a moment before awkwardly following his lead. Lucia on the other hand knelt smoothly, just a breath behind Aymeric. The four knights stood looking around at the rest for a moment, before hurriedly kneeling, though clearly they were _very_ uncertain about just what their Lord Commander was doing.

Tataru's eyes were wide as she took it all in, and I wondered how many times she'd be telling this story in the tavern.

Aymeric spoke in a tone of humility. “My people have committed unspeakable atrocities against dragon-kind – and even against our own. Would that we could undo these wrongs...but we cannot. Be that as it may, the future yet presents a chance to begin anew. Our nation has broken free of the shackles of a false faith, and Nidhogg shall lead his kindred against us no more.”

He raised his eyes and his voice. “I doubt not that it will require much effort and perseverance, but it is my belief that in time Ishgard will again become a place where man and dragon may abide together in harmony.”

Midgardsormr nodded. _I shall remember thy words_. He looked out over the others. _Yet be warned. Nidhogg's soul doth live on. His unbridled rage hath claimed for its vessel the one thou callest the Azure Dragoon_.

Aymeric stood, his face full of dismay. “Estinien!”

 _Doubt not but that Nidhogg will call out to his brood ere long, nor that they shall answer him. Steel yourselves, for the true test is yet to come_.

“Come what may,” Aymeric told the dragon firmly, “we will _never_ cease to believe.” His eyes met the dragon's and in them I saw the determination that Haurchefant had so loved. “Upon the souls of they who have sacrificed themselves to pave the way for peace, we will never abandon our cause.”

 _A thousand-year war cannot be ended in a day_ , Midgardsormr warned. _It may take generations. What thou dost begin, thy children must continue. Entrust unto them thy hopes and dreams, that peace may reign again...and forevermore._

The dragon bent his head to me, brushing the tip of his nose gently against my cheek in farewell. Then he turned and raised his wings, and leaped over the edge of the landing. He kited out of sight as everyone who had knelt slowly got to their feet with wonder in their eyes.

Banners flew from every spire, draped from every window. Even from across the great chasm, the city looked bedecked in color, and I could hear faint music. The arms of every city-state in the Alliance flew proudly alongside the banners of Ishgard. And there in front of the Vault, I knew, Aymeric was signing the treaty that would bring his beloved city back into the Alliance for true. People had been talking about it for two days straight, and the feasting and celebrating was like to continue for another two – maybe more. People _wanted_ that celebration, wanted to turn their thoughts away from death and loss and sorrow, even if only for a little while.

I stood before the gravestone, the cold wind making my coat snap and billow.

“Can you hear them, my love?” I whispered. “Can you hear them cheering? They'll sing your name for generations. Your father is even writing a book, or so I hear.” I bent my head. “But _gods_ I wish you were here.”

“There you are.”

I turned, quickly wiping at my eyes. Alphinaud and Tataru walked up. She was carrying a bouquet of snow-white lilies.

Alphinaud looked at the gravestone. “A noble monument for a noble soul,” he murmured.

I unstrapped the shield that I had carried here on my back, and unwrapped it. Kneeling, I balanced it carefully against the stone. My fingers traced the ragged hole in the steel one last time.

Tataru came up, and placed the lilies on the other side from the shield. Then she leaned against me, her small hand patting my back. Alphinaud came to kneel on my other side, and put his arm around my shoulders.

I bent my head, and let them comfort me.


	35. New Answers to Old Questions

I returned to the city in the twilight. As I had expected, the streets were crowded yet – people had come from all over to join the Ishgardians in their celebrating. If there weren't fountains of ale, it was only because it was a little too cold. I smiled as a gaggle of kids ran past me, laughing.

I turned my steps homeward.

The manor was quiet, and I went to my own room without seeing anyone. The Count was entertaining guests, but it seemed everyone was elsewhere – perhaps carousing in another noble's home, for tonight. I had no doubt there would be at least one large and noisy party within the manor, but I hoped to be able to slip away when that time came.

I sat down on the chair near the bed, and let my mind wander. So much had happened. So much remained still to do, if we wanted to rebuild the Scions, and Ishgard. To bring about true peace would take...lifetimes. But it all seemed _possible_ now, as it had not the day that Haurchefant died. The pain would never leave me, not really, but at last it had loosened its grip on my heart. I could even listen to the stories Count Edmont loved to tell about his son, without wanting to burst into tears.

Someone tapped on my door.

I got up, and opened it.

Aymeric stood in the hallway, wearing a plain blue cloak. He smiled at me. “Hello. May I come in?”

I blinked at him in surprise, then backed up, and let him in.

“Shouldn't you be...somewhere else?” I couldn't recall now what I'd been told about Aymeric's part in the festivities. Hadn't they intended to drag him from feast to feast, putting him on show like a prize winning stallion?

“No,” he answered. “I've fulfilled my last social obligation for the evening.”

“Oh.” I shifted my weight a little. “That's...good.”

“Are you free as well?”

I put my right hand over my left wrist, trying to hide my sudden need to fidget. “I am.”

“Would you care to walk with me?”

“Walk?” I raised my eyebrows. “I...that sounds nice, actually. Yes, I would.”

He produced another cloak – like his own, plain and serviceable, though green instead of blue. “So that we may make our way without...”

“Without being hailed, toasted, and generally harassed in the friendliest possible way?” I suggested.

He laughed. “Indeed.”

“And these cloaks will so well conceal our identities as all that?”

“It always worked for Haurchefant and me.” He paused, looking at me with slight concern.

I smiled, and took the cloak from him. “I'm intrigued to know why you and Haurchefant needed to sneak around.”

His smile was relieved. “Perhaps I will tell you.”

He led me out of the house, going through the back way – the kitchen staff were all relaxing in the back garden, since there were no guests, and they paid us no heed.

He headed toward the Vault, and we passed by knots of cheerful folk, many of whom had set up braziers in the street and were toasting food over them as they drank and sang and chattered. Not a single person marked our passing. Dozens of people were wearing blue or green or brown cloaks of the same sort as ours, especially as the night closed in and the temperature dropped.

Then Aymeric's steps took us to a strange, narrow alley, ducking behind a line of shops a couple of streets away from the Hoplon.

He reached back and took my hand. I followed him closely, peering ahead of us in the deepening dusk. High walls closed us in, and the thin strip of sky above our heads grew darker and darker. There were no lanterns, no torches along this alley, and if the pavement had not been smooth as so much of upper Ishgard's paving was, I might have tripped.

“Here we are.” He let go of my hand.

_Here being where?_

I heard the rattle of a key in a lock, and the creak of iron hinges. Then I felt Aymeric's hand on mine again. “It isn't much farther.”

I let him lead me.

Then the narrow walls opened out into a huge expanse, and I could see soft lights scattered around an enormous garden.

“Oh,” I breathed.

There were white gravel paths, laid out with mathematical precision; at irregular intervals, white stone benches appeared to either side of those paths.

I saw trees espaliered against the walls near us. I caught the heady scent of lemon blossoms as a breeze wafted over me.

“Whose garden is this?” I murmured.

“Technically it belongs to Halone,” Aymeric told me, his grin boyish. “Those who reside in the Vault sometimes prefer to take their meditation in pleasant surroundings. A thousand years of careful gardening...”

“Are we _allowed_ to be here?”

“Not at all,” and he laughed. “But no one will come out here for hours.”

“Why?”

He led me over to a bench near the lemon trees, and tugged me down to sit beside him.

I was about to repeat my question, when the singing began.

My head lifted and my mouth opened in delight.

“This is the time of their evening prayers,” he whispered to me. “Tonight, the choristers are making the offering of song.”

 _And what an offering it is_. I listened, enchanted. I had never mentioned to anyone how much I adored music. How had Aymeric known?

I glanced at Aymeric. He had his eyes half shut, smiling as he listened intently.

 _Oh. He loves it too_.

The massed voices echoed, and I couldn't quite make out the words because of the walls between the garden and wherever they were singing. But as the notes soared, it no longer mattered what words I was missing. It was beautifully sung, and I let myself enjoy every moment of it.

Aymeric's arm slid around me, and I leaned against him, glad of his warmth.

When the final note had died away, I sighed with regret.

“The acolytes will come to extinguish the lanterns soon,” Aymeric told me, his breath ruffling my hair. “We should go.”

I nodded and got up, and let him lead me once more. The pale stone walls caught the starlight, and I had less trouble navigating the path than I had expected.

We came back out into the regular streets, and Aymeric kept my hand in his as we walked. He took me along a path that slowly became familiar to me, until we stepped out onto the high promenade. The same one I had walked along, under the moon one night...

I paused, tugging my hand free, and he turned to me. “What is it?”

I shook my head, and stepped over to the railing, leaning my hands against the cool stone. “Just...remembering.”

There was no moon tonight. _It's not the same_ , I told myself. _Don't let it get to you_.

Aymeric stood beside me, leaning his hip against the rail. “You know that Haurchefant spoke to me about you a great deal, yes?”

I looked over at him. “In a general sort of way, yes. You had mentioned it...and then I went and asked him about it, too.”

“If I recall how he told it in his letter, you demanded to know what nonsense he had been telling me,” Aymeric laughed.

I couldn't help but chuckle, though I was glad it was too dark for him to see my blushes. “How, ah, _specific_ were his letters?”

“Do you really want that answer?”

“Oh, gods,” I put my hands to my face. “Maybe I don't.”

He took my wrists in his hands, and tugged them gently down. “They weren't lascivious.” He was still chuckling as he tucked my hands against his waist and put his arms around me.

“That's enough for me.” I rested my cheek against his shoulder. “I...I really do l-like you, you know.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” He stroked my back.

“S-so, what now...?”

“Just this.” He pressed his temple against mine. “I'm not in a hurry.”

“You said no...before.”

“You were ill.”

“I was confused. I...” I took a long breath. “I don't know what to s-say. Or do.”

“You needn't do or say anything at all. Not right now.” He pulled back a little way, and cupped my cheek. “I just want to spend time with you, while we have the quiet.”

“Oh.” My eyes focused on his mouth. “Just that? You don't want...?”

He leaned in, and set his lips against mine.

I opened my mouth for him instantly, and he crushed me to him, deepening the kiss into something fierce and hungry. I knotted my hands in the blue cloak.

My skin tingled all over and my heart raced, as his tongue plundered my mouth. I could feel him shaking as his hands rubbed up and down my back.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, and whispered, “Does that answer your question?”

“Mm, no, elaborate further,” I murmured.

He was laughing as I kissed him.

When I let him come up for air, he tucked my head against his shoulder. I could hear his heart pounding. He muttered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing, my dear.”

My heart stopped.

“Berylla? What's wrong?”

“Don't call me that.” The words flew out of my mouth, harsher than I'd intended.

He pulled back, looking down at me, his expression confused and a little hurt. “What? Why?”

“ _He_ called me that. I can't...” I bit my lip, and took his hands. “I can't...handle it.” I swallowed. “I know it was just a pet name, it didn't mean that much, but I just...”

“He never called anyone else dear, Berylla.”

“What?” I stared up at him. “Not even you?”

“Certainly not me.” He reached up and stroked my cheek. “He told me everything – but we were friends. Extremely _good_ friends,” he smiled at my expression, “but friends only.”

“He wasn't...exclusive.”

“I know. But he cared for you more than any other lover he'd known.”

A tear ran down my cheek. “I wish I'd asked him to say it.”

“Would you like to know why he didn't?”

“Because he wasn't going to commit to me,” I shrugged, but Aymeric shook his head.

“No.”

“No?”

“He didn't want to...oh, what did he say in that letter? “ _I don't wish to burden her with a lover's demands_.” He was certain that you were stretched to your limits in handling all of the responsibilities you take on.”

All I could do was shake my head. Then I saw the way Aymeric was looking at me – his hands were tight on mine, but his eyes were worried, as if he thought I might pull away.

 _Well, yeah, Berylla, the ghost of a dead lover is kind of hanging over the both of you. Of course he's worried_.

I put my arms around Aymeric's waist. “Listen,” I said quietly. “I'm not good with words the way he was. But if you're thinking to not _burden_ me...” I lay my head against his chest. “I'll tell you right now, that's a burden I will bear without a word.”

He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “If it hurts you,” he told me, “I won't talk about Haurchefant anymore.”

“It hurts,” I nodded, “but I want you to do it anyway.” I looked up into his eyes. “I didn't know him very well, for all that I loved him. Listening to his father talk about him showed me that. I would listen to your stories, as well.”

“As you wish.” He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand.

“I just don't want to dance around the subject of Haurchefant...or the subject of us.” I shook my head. “I'm lousy at guessing games.”

“Direct questions, direct answers, hm?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Then what would you like to ask me?”

I thought about it. “He and I...moved quickly, I guess. But you're...not. Why?”

“Haurchefant was impulsive to say the least,” Aymeric answered. “I am not.”

“Haurchefant also didn't want to be more than lovers.”

“I am willing to begin as friends, as lovers,” he said slowly. “We can explore other possibilities.”

I bit my lip. “Other possibilities have complications.”

“Of course.” He dipped his head and kissed me lightly. “Trust me,” he murmured. “And I will trust you. We will take as much time as we need to take.”

“It's been a long time now, since...” I moved against him, yearning, hoping against hope that I could tempt him beyond endurance.

“Not tonight, I'm afraid.” His voice was gentle, though his hands trembled.

“Why?” I pouted.

“Because I have to get you home, and get myself back to my own house, before we are missed.”

I growled. “Fifteen minutes. Hells, give me _ten_ minutes...”

“I want our first...encounter...to be far more than finding a dark corner,” he told me firmly. “And I think you know as well as I do that being hasty in that way is likely to shatter any chance of keeping our relationship discreet.”

“Dammit.”

He let me go, and took my hand. Decorously, we walked together, our faces hidden, just another couple out for an evening stroll. The restless desire inside of me grumbled, but curled up tight again, into a sulky slumber.

By the time we entered the wide alley that gave access to the back court of House Fortemps, I was calm enough.

“I do hope you enjoyed the music.”

“I did. Very much. Did you know I would, or were you just hoping?”

“Hoping,” he laughed quietly. “But I remembered you asking me about whether I played.”

“Oh yeah, I did, didn't I?” I tilted my head up to him. “I wish I remembered more about that night, truly.”

He smiled. “Perhaps, one day, I'll tell you everything that I remember.”

“Tease.”

He took my chin in his fingers, and kissed me. “Keep that as a promise that I won't tease you forever, Berylla.”

Then he straightened, and walked away.

I went inside.


	36. Peace, Talking

“Are you sure you've eaten enough?”

I finished my coffee, and leveled a glare at Alphinaud. “You know, you _could_ just excuse yourself and leave the rest of us in peace in the mornings.”

“We have somewhere to be this morning. Our meeting with Tataru, and then with the Lord Commander.”

I shook my head. “With Aymeric? This is the first _I've_ heard. Well then.” I wiped my mouth, and got up from the table. I went around to the other end, and gave the Count a peck on the cheek, before heading back to my room and grabbing my things.

This wing of the manor had a big bathing chamber, shared among four guest rooms, but since I was now the only guest in this wing, I had the place to myself. I got cleaned up – at a pace somewhere between leisurely and brisk. _Alphinaud's been a right little shit for the last few days._ I could have blamed a hangover, or plain exhaustion from so much celebrating, but not for this long.

It had been three weeks since the evening Aymeric had taken me to the Vault's garden. I had barely seen him in that time – various tasks kept me on the move, and he was working all the hours of the day to get the newly formed Parliament into some semblance of order. We kept trying to find time – but schedules just hadn't meshed. About all we could manage was having quick conversations over coffee and sweets, every few afternoons – nothing private.

I'd even missed an official musical evening, to my dismay. Aymeric had talked about the singer, a Miqote woman named Nightbird Kevala, quite a bit. My only consolation was that the woman appeared to be planning to make Ishgard her residence – so she'd at least be around for a season or two while she sorted through patrons and established herself somehow.

The bawdy songs and other nonsense that had flown about the city for ages were finally losing popularity, in no small part due to this Nightbird. Apparently every minstrel in the city was vying to either match her, or get her attention, or some such. I was just as glad; I had never been comfortable with so many songs speculating on Haurchefant's love life – or mine for that matter. It felt positively weird to hear some random minstrel warbling about my _loins_ , dammit.

I put my hair in a side braid, still damp, and padded down the hallway to my room. As I dressed, I wondered what to do about Alphinaud. He had often fussed at me about how much I tended to eat. It had been a sort of in-joke between us. But now, it didn't feel very funny. There was tension under his words that hadn't been there before. This was the second morning in a row he had needled me about eating heartily. Enough was enough.

 _I'm going to have to call him on this shit, but I don't want to do it in the house_.

Since my return to the city, riding Midgardsormr, the Count and I had developed a different relationship, with him treating me rather like a favorite niece. I had taken to sitting with him on slow afternoons, taking tea and listening to his stories; and at most meals I took my leave only after giving him a kiss on the cheek as I had this morning, or a small hug. He seemed to be glad of it, and I was glad to be able to bring some small measure of happiness to his life. I wasn't about to spoil that by having an argument with Alphinaud under the Count's roof.

 _Especially if this devolves into any sort of shouting match_.

Dressed and ready, I stepped out into the hall and went to look for him.

I waited to speak until we were half way between the manor and the Congregation. “Something is bothering you, and I want to know what it is,” I told him, not bothering to slide up to the subject. “Why are you being so nasty?”

“Am I?”

“Alphinaud.”

He paused, and turned slightly, his eyes not meeting mine.

“What the fuck is wrong, Alphinaud? I'm not going another step until you explain yourself. The last time I talked to you, there was no trouble between us, so what the hell happened?”

“I'm certain I don't know what you mean.”

“You've got to be kidding me. You sniped at me in front of the Count, and now you're going to lie to my face?”

“I'm not the one lying.” His eyes snapped to mine.

“What are you talking about? I haven't even spoken to you in three days!”

“Your condition.”

I squinted at him, utterly lost for a moment more. Then it hit me, and I went cold, then hot.

My voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur. “Who told you something like that?”

“Does it matter, if it's true?”

“It matters a hell of a lot, because it _isn't_ true. You're not an idiot, Alphinaud. Why wouldn't you just come and fucking _ask_ me?”

“Would you have told me the truth?”

I stepped back. “You...little... _shit_.” The shock of his words hurt like a slap. “How dare you say that to me, Alphinaud? I have _never_ lied to you. I never will. I promised you. Remember?”

“I do remember.”

I swiped my hand across my eyes. “And I've never, ever broken that promise. How _could_ you?”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “How could you never tell me about something as important as – as taking a lover?”

“If I choose to sleep with someone, it is none of your damned business! You are my beloved friend, but you don't have the right to make a demand like that of me.”

“As your friend, I deserve to know if you're going to have a _child_ , don't I?”

I wanted to scream at him. I took a deep breath, and another. When I spoke, my voice shook with the effort of keeping it at a reasonable level. “Alphinaud, _I can't have children_. And you can ask Y'Shtola to corroborate that, because she knows.”

His blue eyes went blank with shock for one second, but I didn't let him recover.

“You've developed some kind of romantic notions about you and me, and I've let you alone about it. But if _this_ is what you think constitutes love? Trying to control me, trying to interfere with my life?” My lips twisted, and my voice turned into a snarl. “I don't want anything to do with that kind of “love,” or with you. _Grow the fuck up_ , and keep your mind on things you can handle, _little boy_.”

I turned on my heel and walked away from him, fast, before I kept talking and did more damage.

I heard him call after me, but I sped up into a run, and escaped around a corner. I ducked down an alley that would eventually lead me to the lower-level entrance to the Forgotten Knight, and then slowed down to a walk. I needed time alone, needed to get hold of my temper.

 _I shouldn't have said things that way. I went too far._ I swiped tears away again. _How could he believe some – some random rumor, and not even talk to me? He just_ _accepted_ _that information as solid?_

But I also knew – I had known for months – about his growing feelings for me. Haurchefant had even commented on it, warning me not to think of it as a mere crush. But I had. How could it be anything else? _He's so damn young, not even seventeen yet. How can he have any idea what he wants, what risks he might be taking in getting involved with_ _anyone_ _?_

And he had let his feelings rule over his reason. There was no other explanation for his sudden gullibility. Where he heard the rumor really didn't matter – though I would have liked to find the person responsible and punch them in the face. What mattered was his actions – his fit of jealousy, his hurtful words. It felt as if he'd stabbed me, when he'd accused me of lying to him.

And hurt, I had lashed out, hurt him back. _Very mature, Berylla. A wonderful example of grown up behavior. Gods, I'm hopeless._

I paused for a moment before going in to the Forgotten Knight, getting my breathing under control, and letting go of the upset. _It'll work out, somehow. I know him. Once he actually starts thinking it through, he'll see the rumor for the nonsense it is._

I pulled on the handle, and went in.

“I'll say this, the inn master here has a talent for ale making.” I drained my mug again, and picked up the pitcher, only to find it empty. “Aw.”

Lucia laughed.

The two of us were sitting on the perch I'd favored on my last trip through here on a diplomatic mission. Alphinaud was off somewhere or other; he'd been surly all day, and vanished the moment we'd set our bags down in the room we'd share for the night. The inn was quite full – some sort of roundup of wild birds was in the offing – and below the little bluff where Lucia and I sat, a half-dozen hunters bickered companionably, comparing tallies and predicting victories in various bets and endeavors.

I'd brought up the ale, Lucia had brought the mugs, and we'd just sat up here. Unlike our ride out to Tailfeather, it had been relaxed, even pleasant.

“Master Alphinaud seems...tense.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Might it have anything to do with the rather ridiculous story that I heard a day or two ago?”

I sighed and set my empty mug down. I leaned one elbow on my raised knee, and tugged on my braid. “The one claiming that I'm pregnant?”

“Ah, so you had heard.”

“From Alphinaud.” My mouth twisted bitterly. “Because he believed it.”

“So you're not...”

“Can't.” I shot her a glance.

“Ah.” She leaned back on her hands. “If it helps your mood, I squashed the talk when I heard it going around the barracks.”

“It does. Thanks.”

“Also the stories speculating about any sort of sexual escapades.”

I coughed, and felt my face turning red. “Why are people so fascinated by...?”

“I suspect the true reason is that they'd rather think about anything else – no matter how inappropriate or unlikely – than dwell on more distressing matters that they can't affect.”

“I suppose.”

“The Empire uses that tendency to its advantage,” she mused, her short blond hair ruffled by a breeze. “They provide all manner of entertainment to the citizens, and keep their eyes focused on the amphitheaters and the blood sands.”

“Bread and circuses,” I muttered.

“Exactly.” She gave me a keen look. “You've heard of it?”

I thought about it. “I don't know when or from whom.” Then I shrugged. “Thing is, for someone like _Alphinaud_ to fall for such nonsense is...”

“Infatuation makes fools of us all, I expect.”

I turned my head and regarded her. “This is starting to tread on some touchy ground.”

“I know.” She shifted, hugging her knees. “You and I...had that falling out.”

“That was quite a while ago,” I commented. “Thought we'd apologized and all.”

“Yes. But I still feel that I owe you an explanation.”

“Not really. I figured out a few things. I'm slow, but I get there. I understand that you feel strongly about him – and that you were only acting on that.”

Her green eyes were pensive as she looked out across the village. “Ser Aymeric gave me quite the lecture, when he learned what I had done.”

“Ouch.” I winced in sympathy. “That can't have been a great conversation.”

“It was nothing less than a dressing-down, and one I had earned.” She met my eyes. “Have you had such a conversation with Alphinaud?”

I yanked on my braid, and laid my head on my arm for a moment. “Yeah. I think. It was...bad.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“I'm not good at talking to people. I lost my temper with him.”

“Might I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Talk to him again, now that you aren't angry. Being clear about where you stand emotionally...I can say that even when it shows you that you haven't a chance, it still helps to have that closure.”

“Huh. Closure.” I pondered. “The very idea of talking to him like that makes me feel nervous.” I glanced over at her, and gave her a twisted smile. “Probably that means it's the right thing to do.”

She nodded. “I often find that to be the case.”

I found him eventually, sitting on the bank of the stream just outside of the water-gate. He was sketching, but when I approached he flipped the notebook closed and started to get up.

“Please don't,” I said quietly. “Just sit and listen, okay?”

“If you wish.”

“I do wish.” I sat down next to him. “I wish I had a way to take back the things I said.”

He chewed on his thumbnail, his eyes on the water.

“I was too harsh,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

“You had reason to be upset.”

“Upset as I was, I still shouldn't have been unkind.”

“I shouldn't have taken mere rumor so seriously.”

“You had your reasons, too.”

He sighed.

After a moment, I spoke again. “I wanted to talk to you, also, about...”

“What, you have more things to tell me I shouldn't do?”

“Alphinaud, you know how rotten I am at this kind of thing. Please, just...give me the chance to explain?”

“You don't need to explain. You were very clear.”

“No, I wasn't. I was spitting mad and saying things that weren't necessarily true.”

He turned toward me, slowly. His knuckles were white as he held his notebook.

“I don't want to tell you that your feelings are...are worthless, or invalid, or something.” I fidgeted. _Gods, this is hard_. “But I also don't want to mess up our friendship. I care about you. A lot. You've been my friend for longer than just about anybody else. I don't take my friends for granted.” I looked at him, making sure he was still listening. “I know that where you're from, you're already considered a grown man and all that. But...but for me you're just not.” I shook my head. “I'm saying this badly, damn it.”

“A little bit.” His voice trembled. “Just because I'm younger than you...”

“It's not the age difference,” I said. “It's because you've got a lot to learn – about yourself, and how relationships work. Trying to – to be with you that way – it just wouldn't feel right.”

“If you won't teach me, how am I to learn?”

“You get there on your own, like everyone else does.”

“That's very unhelpful.”

I shrugged. “I'm sorry. It's not like I can recommend a book.”

He got a look in his eye, and I waited.

“There are a few manuals I know of...”

“Of course there are,” I muttered. “Do the Sharlayans research _everything_?”

He smiled, the first real smile I'd seen from him in days. “Of course.”

I grinned back, but then let it go. “I hate that I hurt you.”

“But you won't accept my feelings.”

“I _can't_. Not when you really don't know what you're getting into. It's called taking advantage of the innocent.”

“If I were older...?”

“You're so stubborn.”

He just waited, and I sighed. “I don't know. I can't tell what the future will bring. You know as well as I do that what I do puts my life in constant danger. Six years from now, I might be dead. Or _you_ might have met someone else.”

“Six years, hm?”

“What, are you going to mark your calendar for the day after your birthday?”

“I might.” He gave me a sly smile. “You'll have to live long enough to find out, won't you?”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Okay, fair.”

“Are hugs still allowed?”

I opened my arms. “Always.”


	37. Tough Cookie

The late morning sun turned Lucia's pale hair almost white as the two of us stood in front of Anyx Trine. The discussion with Vidofnir had gone about as well as could be expected. The big white female wasn't unsympathetic to the notion of peace talks – but she wasn't willing to commit to anything before talking with the rest of her brood – especially Hraesvelgr.

“At least she likes you well enough,” I offered. “That bit of humor was a good sign.”

Alphinaud stepped up to join us. “All things considered, that went rather well.”

“I'm surprised our proposal was not rejected outright,” Lucia nodded. She gazed around the massive courtyard at the dozens of dragons, large and small, that lounged on the walls and on fallen bits of masonry. I smiled as I watched her expression. She'd spent years fighting the dragons, seeing them only as enemies, her eyes trained to pick out weak spots and gauge body language solely to aid in combat. But I could see her beginning to accept the dragons as beings, with distinct personalities. The possibilities that opened made her eyes sparkle.

She saw me smiling at her, and shook her head. “Maybe I should take this opportunity to speak with some of the other dragons.”

“That's a lovely idea,” I nodded. “We can wait for you.”

“You need not wait for me. The return journey holds no further concerns for me.”

Alphinaud all but leaped on her words. “Well, if you have no further need of our services, we shall continue on to Sharlayan. We hope to welcome a scholar, who has agreed to aid us in the search for our missing comrades.”

“I pray your journey is as swift and uneventful as ours was.” Lucia bowed. “Thank you again for sparing the time to assist me, even when such grave matters remain unresolved.”

Alphinaud's smile was warm. “I can think of no graver matter than a thousand-year war─one which our friends gave their lives to see ended. Suffice it to say, I would willingly make a thousand such journeys to ensure that their sacrifice was not in vain.”

“I do not doubt it.” Lucia waved us towards our birds. “Best get on the road.”

We stood outside at the Front-bridge, enjoying the early-evening breeze. Y'Shtola had mentioned that the visiting scholar had decided to spend a little time exploring, and so we were simply waiting for her.

She must be one hell of a tough cookie, exploring this place alone. I wondered if she would be like Moenbryda, with the bearing of a headstrong barbarian chieftess. Oh, probably not. Adventurous, though, that much is obvious already; and probably not old...

“Terribly sorry to have kept you all waiting!”

The Lalafellin girl trotting up to us wore a bright, yellow robe with little ears sewn to the top of the hood. And ribbons. Her eyes were a most striking aquamarine shade and twinkled with good humor as she stopped in front of us. She stood as casually as if she had finished a nice stroll in the park, and hadn't just been wandering around in an area full of various nasty creatures.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Alphinaud's face. His mouth had opened, and he was easing back just a little...his whole posture rather like that of a wary cat. What in the world?

Y'Shtola smiled. “Allow me to introduce Krile, who is recently come from the Sharlayan motherland. She has generously offered to assist us.”

_Minfilia's brow creased in worry. “The entire island is gone?!”_

_Days later, Minfilia speaking again with her Sharlayan contact. “Krile survived? Oh thank the Twelve...yes, yes please keep me informed...”_

Krile was curtsying gracefully as I came back to myself from the burst of memory. “A trip to Eorzea was long overdue.” Her head turned toward me, and as her eyes met mine I felt a shock of recognition. She bears the Echo...

“You must be the Warrior of Light. You certainly do look the part.” She bowed her head to me. “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

Before I could reply, she turned towards Alphinaud. “And who is that I spy but young Alphinaud Leveilleur himself! I daresay someone's grown an inch or two in my absence.” Her sudden grin was wicked. “Or are those lifts in your boots?”

I choked, and covered my mouth. Y'Shtola looked over at Alphinaud, her ears perked and her tail curving into an S of curiosity. It was hard to say for sure in the failing light whether or not Alphinaud was blushing. He cleared his throat.

“Miss Krile and I met at the Studium, years ago. I shall forever be indebted to her for her sage guidance.” I could hear him struggling to maintain some semblance of dignity in his voice.

“It was no small task keeping him out of trouble!” Krile chuckled. “The youngest ever to enter the Studium – him and his sister, eleven-year old prodigies.” As if confiding in us, she continued, “Suffice it to say, social graces were _not_ among his list of talents! Striding up to his seniors on his first day, head held high...what was it he said again...?”

“Thank you, Krile!” Alphinaud all but shouted. For a moment I thought he might actually grab the Lalafellin and shake her. And he is definitely blushing now if he wasn't before.

Unperturbed, she kept smiling at him. “For what? I hadn't finished. Or would you care to attempt a more dexterous deflection?”

Beneath the cheerfulness, I heard a hard edge to her voice. _She looks cute, but she's tempered steel, she is. Damn. I never thought I would see someone trounce Alphinaud at diplomatic chatter_.

Alphinaud looked like a child being reminded of his lessons for a second. Then, he backed up a step, lowered his hands, and cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should save this delightful conversation for a more fitting occasion, when pressing matters do not demand our undivided attention.”

Though he spoke through clenched teeth, his tone was once again that of the consummate diplomat. I noticed the tips of his ears were still quite pink, and had to smother another laugh.

Krile nodded, as if he'd passed a test. “A bit much, but better. I can tell you have been putting your skills to use here in Eorzea. Henceforth, I trust you will dazzle me with your eloquence at the _first_ time of asking.”

Alphinaud's sigh nearly made me lose my self-control again.

Krile dusted her hands, and said, “Right, on to more pressing matters, then – finding Minfilia and the other missing Scions!”

Y'Shtola asked, “Do you have new information for us?”

“A new approach, actually. Tataru recounted the tale of your escape, and it gave me an idea. Simply put, assuming Thancred left some manner of trail when you whisked him away – as is almost always the case with teleportation magics – I am confident I can find and follow it.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Alphinaud demanded.

“The wherewithal to do it,” Krile answered with a shrug. “The fact is, my abilities aren't quite up to the task. Not in themselves anyway. If I had Master Matoya's Crystal Eye, on the other hand...” She looked up at Y'Shtola.

“I think it best that you explain your plan to her in person.”

“Berylla.”

“Hm? Oh, damn, I'm sorry.” I stood straight and shook my head. “Did I actually doze off?”

“Only for a few moments,” Y'Shtola laughed. “I suppose our discussion became a tad too technical for you.”

“Did she...?”

“Yes.” Y'Shtola's voice rippled with excitement. “It seems we must away to Tailfeather, to start searching in that area for Thancred.”

“That's wonderful! Are we ready to leave, then?”

“Alphinaud and Krile are already outside.”

“I'll join you in just a moment. I want to thank Master Matoya myself – and apologize for falling asleep.”

Y'Shtola chuckled and patted my shoulder.

The old woman tilted her head at me as I walked toward her. “What?”

“Oh, nothing much. I just remembered something you had said the last time we visited.” I fished in my pouch and found the little leather bag, bearing the mark of Ishgard's finest tea shop. I set it on her table. “I brought you a small gift.”

“Oh?” She examined the bag, and I saw her hat tremble, rather than actually hearing her laugh.

“If I thought I could get away with it, I'd stay for a cup now,” I said, “but be sure that I'll be back as soon as I can steal a few hours. Shall I bring cards as well?”

“Ha!” Matoya flicked her hand at me. “I'll supply the cards.”

“Until next time, then!”

When I trotted outside, Y'Shtola gave me an odd look. “That was a fairly lengthy apology,” she observed

I grinned, and shrugged. “Let's get going.”

“Mark well our faces, Warrior of Light, for we are the Warriors of Darkness. Walkers of a different path. And we shall meet again.”

The five strangers shimmered and winked out of sight. _They have access to aetherytes, then. And they're strong. Damn strong. What the hell...?_

“Warriors of Darkness?” Krile shook her head. “Really?”

“Thancred!” Alphinaud's voice was high with emotion. “Are you all right?”

Thancred turned to face us. He looked quite the barbarian – rough clothes totally unlike the soft leathers he had been so fond of before. But his smile was just the same, and he stepped forward to join me with the same easy grace he had always had. Everyone converged on the two of us.

Wild screeches and clicking resounded from the edge of the pit. The Gnath had recovered from their terror, and were likely quite furious to have lost their god yet again. Thancred and I both glanced up, then back at each other. I gave him a half bow, and he nodded.

“Pleasantries can wait.”

“Agreed,” I said, and we dashed for the exit.

We reached the relative safety of the Vath camp before anyone spoke, and the first to break the silence was Krile. She bent, her hands on her knees, breathing hard and whimpering a little.

Alphinaud was on his knees beside her at once. She pushed herself up to stand straight, her eyes damp. She looked as if she were in pain.

“The vision caught me unawares,” she panted, “and I was unprepared for their attack...but...” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “I could hear the colony chattering all around us. They were so loud...so unbearably _loud_...”

Alphinaud set his hand on her shoulder. “Do you need to sit down? I have water, if it will help.”

She nodded, and let him guide her to a nearby rock. If she had sustained any other hurts, I knew he would deal with them. _For all that she can tease him until he can't stand it, he's hardly going to withhold healing from her._

Y'Shtola turned to Thancred. “It's plain you have not lost your appetite for the dramatic, entering the battle at the last instant.” Her words sounded harsh, but her smile trembled.

“ _My_ appetite for the dramatic?! Have you forgotten the circumstances of our parting? The heroic last stand, the tunnel filling with light...” He sighed, a long-suffering sound. “Had I known you intended to use forbidden magics to deliver me to some gods-forsaken wilderness...”

He grinned. “I would have thanked you in advance.”

Y'Shtola hugged him, hiding a sniffle against his jerkin before she let him go and stepped back.

Still grinning, he continued. “If nothing else, you might have warned me that I would emerge from the Life-stream in the altogether.”

I couldn't hold back my laughter. “What a view the wild creatures must have had!”

I gave him a hug of my own, squeezing his shoulder. “It's damn good to see you, Thancred. Really.”

Alphinaud walked up to us, with Krile a step behind him. She looked much recovered.

“These dark warriors, or whoever they are, worry me,” I said, looking around at the others.

Krile nodded. “I saw a glimpse of their leader's past. He was fighting an Ascian – I think.”

“Yes. Definitely an Ascian.” I nodded. “And they destroyed him as we did, with a blade of light. These aren't the everyday sort of adventurers...” I shifted my weight. “And I don't think they're from around here.” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. “I don't know why, but I don't think they're of this world, exactly.”

“If these warriors are capable of doing battle with Ascians and primals both,” Alphinaud mused, “they must be possessed of powerful protection – protection not unlike the Echo...”

“They have the Echo – but not quite...” I faltered. “They... _could_ they be like me? But then why would they be so against us?”

“I don't know...” Alphinaud's voice trailed off. I watched him for a moment, as he gnawed on his thumbnail.

 _When even Alphinaud isn't sure what to think...I don't like this. Not one bit_.

Krile spoke to me, her voice soft, uncertain. “He knew us. He knew _you_. Did he walk in our memories, as we walked in his?”

“Gods, what a thought.” I shivered.

Alphinaud shook his head. “Speculation will avail us naught. There is far too much we do not know. For the present, we must needs concentrate on what we do know, namely that Lord Ravana is no more. Vidofnir must be informed. The news may render her more receptive to Ser Aymeric's invitation.”

Krile looked up at him. “I shall take my leave. If you have need of me, I shall be with Master Matoya. I would beg her assistance with the search for Minfilia.” Without another word, she walked off, clearly all too eager to get on her way.

Thancred scowled. “Wait─Minfilia is _missing_? I thought she escaped with Berylla!”

I looked away, unable to meet his accusing glare, wrapping my arms around myself.

Alphinaud moved to stand in front of me. “I shall explain on the road. Much has happened in your absence...”

Vidofnir gazed down on us. Dragons couldn't smile, but I got the feeling that she was beaming at us as she recited her father's words.

_“For a thousand years have I mourned my beloved, who gave her life to forge a peace thy king betrayed. Such was my lot, until a child of Ishgard came unto me._

_“For want of warmth, she wrapped herself in a dream. Yet the world will remember her deeds. For truth, she fought. For justice, she sinned. For redemption, she sacrificed, and became as light._

_“To follow one's heart, to have faith in one's convictions─be it for weal, or be it for woe. Such is the folly and the glory of man...and of dragon.”_

She brought her head lower, fixing Alphinaud with one glowing carnelian eye. “He hath entrusted the choice to us, and we have made it. We will keep faith with you who walk in the Light.”

“Then you accept Ser Aymeric's invitation?”

Vidofnir nodded. “I shall journey unto Ishgard on behalf of my people.”

Alphinaud's bow was deep and respectful. “We are honored to receive your answer, and will convey your words to our allies without delay.”

I added my own bow to Alphinaud's, and the two of us turned and descended to the ground floor, where Y'Shtola and Thancred waited, already mounted on birds borrowed from Tailfeather.

Alphinaud paused as we left the shadows of the tower, and turned his face up to the sun. “It is happening, Ysayle. Would that you were here to see it.”

He lowered his head, and saw me looking at him. When I nodded, he smiled.

“Let's go home.”


	38. Ungentle Swiftness

Thancred was enchanted with the story that Alphinaud and Y'Shtola took turns telling. As we boarded the airship that would take us from Falcon's Nest to Ishgard, he turned to me. “So you slew a handful of primals, chatted with the Emperor, uncovered the truth behind a thousand-year war, thwarted a mad archbishop's ambitions, and then rode home on the back of the Father of Dragons. Does that about sum it up?”

“Oh,” I shrugged, “those were the biggest high points, I'd say.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the railing as the airship lifted off. “You have given me rather a lot to digest. This whole affair with the Ishgardians and the Dravanians...and our friends nowhere to be found. It would seem there is no end to our troubles.”

Y'Shtola set her hand on his arm. “We can but face them head-on, one at a time. For now, we must apply ourselves to our allotted tasks and leave the others to theirs. Remember, Thancred─we found you, as they found me. In time, we will find Yda and Papalymo and Minfilia as well. These troubles will soon be but a memory─one which we will look back on together.”

But when we came in over Ishgard, smoke and shouting rose to greet us.

“Oh what now?” I muttered under my breath.

We all disembarked at a run, and I led the way, heading straight for the Congregation.

Hilda was just walking up as we arrived. Her hair was disarranged and there was a smear of soot across one cheek, but her smile was as cheeky as ever. “Oh good, you're back. Things got a bit heated while you were away.”

She held the door for us, and we stepped inside, into a scene of barely controlled chaos.

“One thing at a time, one thing at a time!” Lucia was saying, as knights moved through the room. The four of us squeezed ourselves against the wall and stayed out of the way as she directed entire squads of men with brisk efficiency. Every knight that passed us smelled of smoke, and many of them bore minor burns. What in the seven hells has been happening?

Within minutes, the big room was once more clear, and Lucia beckoned us over. “You've returned! In this at least the fates are kind.”

Alphinaud spoke up first. “It pleases me to inform you that Vidofnir has accepted Ser Aymeric's invitation.”

Lucia smiled. “She has?! These are glad tidings indeed...” She hesitated, and then sighed. “Would that the lord commander were here to hear them.”

“Is he otherwise engaged?”

“Aye,” Hilda said. “Sleepin' off a knife to the gut.”

I went stiff.

“What?” Alphinaud demanded. “What happened?! Will he live?”

Lucia's eyes met mine, and the worry there made me feel sick to my stomach. “The doctors tell me he will make a full recovery. But had Lord Edmont and Lord Artoirel not been on hand when the assassin struck, he would not have been so fortunate. For a mercy, they subdued the fiend before he could land a killing blow.”

“The attack was just the beginnin', though. Not long after, buildings all 'round the city─includin' several of ours─burst into flame.” She looked like she wanted to spit. “Bastards caught us completely by surprise. We've been dowsin' the fires, but for every one we put out, it seems like two more start up. Casualties are mountin'─especially in the Brume.”

 _Oh, gods...and people were already upset and frightened_.

“It's plain these fires were started by the assassin's conspirators. Until they have been rounded up, there will be no end to this. Will you help us find them?” Lucia asked.

“Absolutely.” Alphinaud looked at the rest of us, but we were already nodding.

“Then let us be about it.”

I hung back a little, letting Alphinaud turn in the captured suspect. My temper was close to boiling, and I wasn't sure I could stop myself if I started swearing the way I wanted to do.

Lucia had just thanked us when the door opened again. Her eyebrows went up, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Artoirel.

“Are you come to see your father?” Lucia asked him. “He is attending Ser Aymeric in his chambers at present.”

“He bid me bring this salve,” Artoirel answered, holding up a jar.

“Ah, then let me not detain you. And thank you for your kindness, my lord.” Lucia offered him a bow of her head.

Artoirel shook his head. “In times of trouble, every man must do his part. Would that I could do more.” His voice sounded weary.

Alphinaud watched him go, and said to Lucia, “My lord Artoirel does not seem to be in the best of spirits.”

Lucia shook her head. “It's little wonder, Master Alphinaud. His father is widely slandered, and his half-brother not yet cold in the grave.”

I bit my tongue to keep myself from shouting. Though I knew that the High Houses did not play nice at their games of intrigue and politics, I was seized with a sudden desire to just go around the Pillars and beat them all black and blue.

Lucia cleared her throat. “Unfortunately, until we apprehend the person who instigated the arson, our work is not finished.”

Thancred stirred. “Between the various factions in the city, I imagine there are quite a few who would support such a scheme,” he said slowly, “but do _any_ likely suspects spring to mind?”

The door leading to Aymeric's office opened. My head snapped around.

Aymeric strode out, his steps as firm as if he weren't injured at all. “Far too many to count,” he answered Thancred.

Lucia took a half step forward, frowning. “Lord Commander! Your wounds!”

“Are healing well, thank you.” Aymeric's expression was implacable. He turned towards me.

I faced him, dropping my arms, ready to do whatever he asked. “Time is of the essence,” he told us, though his eyes rested only on mine. “Lest we forget, these men would sooner put their own city to the torch than see it change. When our enemies learn that we have apprehended their arsonist, there is no telling how they will react.”

 _Badly_. I felt a chill run down my back. _But how badly?_

The doors burst open, and a Temple Knight ran in. He came to a stop before Aymeric.

“Lord Commander! An armed mob has seized control of the Vault!”

Hilda began to swear. Y'Shtola's tail went bushy. Everyone else – except for me and Aymeric – looked horrified.

Aymeric's voice was heavy. “And now we know. Tell us what happened. Spare no detail.”

“We were ushering people into the basilica, as you ordered. Suddenly we were surrounded by men brandishing blades...it happened so fast, my lord. We had no chance to respond. They've taken the refugees hostage and barricaded themselves inside the Vault.”

Aymeric nodded once. “And they sent you with their demands.”

I couldn't see his face, but I didn't need to. The rage I'd been holding down was nothing to what I felt roiling all around the room now.

“They...demand that a conclave to select the next archbishop be held immediately. Furthermore, they declare that you, Lord Commander, are guilty of patricide and high treason, and that you must surrender yourself at once to receive the Fury's judgment.”

“Ridiculous!” Lucia snapped. “Do they honestly think that executing Ser Aymeric will change anything? That the truth will somehow die with him?”

Artoirel bent his head. “They rage against the passing of the old ways, unable to accept there can be no going back.”

Count Edmont nodded to his son, then looked to me. “Given the...fanciful nature of their demands, a peaceful resolution does not seem likely. If the hostages are to be rescued, it will be by force, I fear.”

I lifted my chin.

“Agreed.” Aymeric turned to Lucia. “Take a contingent of knights and establish a perimeter outside the entrance.”

“At once, Lord Commander!”

“Hilda. I need your people out in force throughout the Brume. When word spreads of the situation, the friends and family of the hostages may try to take matters into their own hands. I will not give these militants more targets.”

When she nodded, he smiled slightly. “And I shall lead the assault on the Vault.” He turned to Alphinaud. “Can I count on the support of the Scions?”

Alphinaud's nod was firm. Y'Shtola and Thancred both echoed him. “Of course.”

Artoirel stepped forward. “I shall join you as well, Lord Commander!”

Aymeric regarded him for a moment, then turned his head to look at the Count, who nodded. “Your assistance is most welcome, Lord Artoirel. To arms then! Time is against us!”

“The priest – he took her! He took Maelie!”

“Damn it!” I ran for the stairs leading upward, Aymeric and Artoirel on my heels.

My breath sobbed in my chest as I took the stairs three at a time. Seven flights of steep stairs, and we all three were running as fast as we could manage, and yet I felt a rising panic that we would still be too late.

All I could see in my mind was the high platform. The front wing of it overlooked the Hoplon. It was in full view of the entire city. Anything he did there would be seen by everyone waiting below – those hoping for their loved ones to be saved, and those certain that their ways were those of righteousness.

_If you harm so much as a hair on that girl's head, you bastard...!_

We reached the last set of stairs. To my astonishment, Aymeric put on a burst of speed and passed me, slamming through the double doors with his shoulder.

The front wing of the high platform stretched out into the sunlight. Aymeric charged forward, with me a handful of steps behind him. I could see the priest in his white and red robe – the colors of a healer – holding Maelie by her collar. The girl whimpered in pure terror.

As Aymeric approached, the priest thrust the girl out, over the edge of the platform. “Come no closer!” he shouted, his voice strained.

I would have rushed the man, but Aymeric put his arm out to block me. “You have nowhere to run! Release the girl and surrender!”

The priest's face twisted, an ugly mask of hate. “Surrender? To the blasphemer who throws wide the gates to our enemy, who breaks bread with him and calls him brother?! I would sooner die than surrender to you!”

I growled under my breath. “Let me grant him his wish.” But Aymeric's arm didn't waver.

“Is it _godly_ to spill the blood of an innocent child?! To burn the homes of your brothers?!” he demanded. “Tell me, priest – _is that godly!?_ ”

“Do not speak to me of godliness, heathen! Your father's blood is on your hands – as is _hers_!”

I surged forward, knowing in my heart I would be too late.

The priest's arm bent, then flexed outward. Maelie screamed as she fell.

I tackled the priest to the stones and pinned him. Raising myself up, I pulled back my arm, ready to pummel his face into a bloody paste. “You gods-be-damned murderer!”

Aymeric scrambled to the edge of the platform, his face ashen. Artoirel lunged forward and grabbed my arm, throwing all his weight against me to keep me from killing the priest with my bare hands.

Below, I heard screams and shouting as the people saw the falling girl.

Tears dropped onto the priest's face as I strained against Artoirel. “Let me kill him!”

Aymeric shouted – the people below shrieked – and I started as I heard a dragon's roar.

“Vidofnir!”

We walked out onto the Hoplon to a scene of stillness and quiet.

Vidofnir stood calmly, surveying the crowd with a benign expression. Lucia and Y'Shtola stood closest to her, but Maelie was only just behind Lucia. Every face was turned to the dragon, and every one of them held a look of awe – and the beginnings of smiles.

Alphinaud and Thancred joined me, Artoirel, and Aymeric as we reached the bottom of the stairs, and all five of us joined the little group directly in front of Vidofnir.

As he passed her, Aymeric looked down at Maelie, and she gave him a tentative smile.

I felt as if a band that had been tightening around my heart suddenly broke. The girl turned her attention back to Vidofnir, her eyes sparkling with what I could only describe as hero-worship.

Aymeric lifted his head to regard Vidofnir. “Never did I think to be indebted to so unexpected a savior. But full glad am I to be so.”

Vidofnir leaned down, bringing her eyes closer to the level of his. She turned her attention to me for one moment. “Friend of Ysayle, warrior of warriors, I had hoped to meet with thee. I bear a message from my sire.”

“From Hraesvelgr?” Aymeric traded a glance with me.

“Upon returning to our lands, Nidhogg's shade did sing unto his brood, and they for skies unknown did then take wing. This thou must know, for your fates are inextricably bound.”

Alphinaud stepped forward. “What of Estinien? Is he truly lost to us?”

“Such matters are beyond my ken,” Vidofnir answered, her tone sad. “I but bear my father's words. Take from them what thou wilt.”

She lifted her head and her wings. “Fare you well, mortals.”

As she took off into the sky, Maelie called out, “Thank you!”

As the dragon flew out of sight, everyone seemed to take a deep breath of relief. Murmurs rose all around us, and Maisie was immediately surrounded by other children, all of them chattering at once.

I lowered my eyes from following the dragon's flight, and saw the Count walking slowly toward us. He stopped in front of Aymeric. “So, it is as they say. A great white dragon swooped down from the heavens, to rescue an innocent child.”

Aymeric's voice was tinged with wonder. “A most unexpected turn of events...but not an unwelcome one. The people will not soon forget this day.”

The Count's eyes were troubled. “Yet how will they choose to remember it, Ser Aymeric? And will these events serve to bring man and dragon closer together, or drive a deeper wedge between brothers?” He gestured around at the people. “After a thousand years, the world these men once knew is changing – and with ungentle swiftness to boot. Though their actions are misguided, their sentiments are only to be expected. You may be sure that others will rally to their cause.” He sighed a little. “I share your desire for a lasting peace with the Dravanians, I do. But I would not see it built on the bones of our countrymen – nor on our own.”

The grief in his voice made me shut my eyes for a moment.

“I see much of Haurchefant in you,” he told Aymeric. “And I could not bear to mourn the passing of another son.”

My heart twisted in my chest, and I didn't wipe away the tear that ran down my face. I felt as if I shouldn't be listening, but I couldn't have moved if I'd had to.

“Lord Edmont...” Aymeric's voice was thick with emotion.

The Count lowered his head, and then turned to walk away. I watched him go, and all the rage that had eaten at me for the last hours shattered and melted away.

The Hoplon began to fill with people, as an impromptu party of sorts sprang up. Artoirel followed his father, and Lucia took charge of the Temple Knights, getting people organized anew. Most of the others mingled with the erstwhile hostages, soothing and talking and generally being sociable.

Aymeric turned to follow Lucia, and I reached for his arm.

He looked at me, and I bent my head toward the Vault. “There's a garden near here, or so I've heard,” I said to him. “I've long yearned to see it. Might you be able to take me there, my lord?”

He seemed about to refuse, but then nodded. I walked beside him, into the Vault and through a short hall, coming out in the garden in just a few moments. As soon as the door shut behind us, I grabbed his hand.

“There won't be any acolytes around for quite a while,” I said, tugging him towards benches screened by trellises that bore thick ivy. “And damn it, I require a moment of your time.”

The moment we were out of sight of the door, I turned around and kissed him.

He returned my kiss with enthusiasm, his arms going around my waist.

I began to try and get my hands under his coat. He hissed, and caught my fingers to stop me.

I pulled back a tiny bit, looking at him.

“Still wounded,” he whispered. “That salve is wearing off, I fear.”

I groaned. “I need you.” I pressed against him. After all the rage and adrenaline, after all the tears and terror, I couldn't stop myself. Desire surged through me, every inch of my skin aching to be touched. “Aymeric, please...”

“Gods, Berylla...” He kissed me again, his hands tightening on mine. “We can't do this right now.”

“Yes we can, no one is looking for us...” I backed up a few steps, pulling him along with me, until I was leaning against the wall. He set one hand beside my head, supporting some of his weight on that arm, and trailed the back of his hand across my cheek before kissing me again, gently this time.

“I told you before, I won't settle for something as hasty as this.” He rested his head against mine. “I want to be able to take my time with you, Berylla...” He pressed his lips against my temple. “I want much, much more than we can accomplish in a few minutes.”

I whimpered a little in the back of my throat. “Don't leave me like this.”

“I won't ask you to wait much longer,” he promised. Then he winced, and straightened up, his hand going to his side.

I bit my lip. “I'm sorry.” I stood up straight as well, with a twinge of shame for ignoring his injury.

“Don't.” He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. “The moment I have the opportunity,” he whispered, “I'm going to make love to you as many times as we can both stand it.”

My breath hissed through my teeth as I shivered. “Can't happen soon enough.”


	39. Interlude

The Rising Stones rang with voices.

Two days had passed since Vidofnir had visited Ishgard. The city was calming, but Aymeric's wounds had worsened, and he had been sequestered in the infirmary, allowed no visitors at all, since the evening of that momentous visit. I would have been driven to utter distraction if it had not been for more news from Tataru – namely, that quite a few of the Scions had been contacted and would be returning to Revenant's Toll.

Thancred and Krile had gone off to attempt some sort of information gathering – I hadn't understood quite all that the Lalafellin scholar had said. But we three – Tataru, Alphinaud, and I – had headed for Limsa to collect some of the newly returned Scions.

A dozen more of our fellows had met us in Limsa – not least among them, Minfilia's mother, and the two friends who had guarded her that fateful day. Hoary Boulder had a younger brother, as it turned out, who had decided to join the Scions – so there was a new face among the old as well. They'd made little knots of conversation all over the big main room, and laughter was everywhere.

I stood with Alphinaud and Tataru, and just watched them.

“It's been so long as I've seen them all like this.” Tataru's voice was soft, brimming with happiness.

“Too long indeed,” Alphinaud nodded. “Though there are others yet missing...”

Tataru turned and looked up at him. “We'll find them, Alphinaud─I know we will! Minfilia, Yda, Papalymo...every last one! And when they walk through those doors, we'll be here to welcome them home.” Then she threw her arms wide, grinning. “With me at the head of the queue, of course!”

All three of us laughed.

“Now, it's time for me to go join the fun!” She moved off toward the bar.

“Not a bad idea,” Alphinaud commented. “Shall we?”

I gestured for him to lead the way.

I collected greetings and back-slaps and hugs as I made a circuit of the room. But when my mug of ale was empty, I set it down, and took myself outside.

My steps were slow as I wandered the Toll, eventually finding my way up onto the long balcony that overlooked the square. The sky had taken on the weirdly purple hue of early evening in this area – Mor Dhona being as damaged as it was aether wise, it was prone to strange weather, and gloom was common most any night. The fog-like stuff wasn't particularly toxic, just unearthly. It made for interesting sky gazing, shimmering on occasion like a soap bubble of enormous proportions.

I sat on a crate, and leaned against the wall, and just stared at the gloom. I didn't want to leave, but I couldn't really partake of the cheer down there in the Stones.

I turned my head as I heard a soft footstep. Alphinaud was less than a yard from me, carrying a small basket.

“You wandered off. Are you well?”

“I'm all right. Just not...” I shrugged, not knowing how to articulate my unease.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Wouldn't you rather be with the rest? They're bound to be more pleasant company.”

“I want to be with my friend.”

I cocked my head, then shrugged. “Okay.”

“I brought provender.” He shoved a couple of crates around with his foot, until he had them arranged to his liking; then he set the basket down and seated himself beside me. He pulled the cloth aside that had covered the contents, and handed me a dark brown glass bottle. Sweat beaded on its surface.

“I gathered you enjoy these,” he said. “Given how often I saw you drinking them when we would sit with Tataru of an evening.”

I smiled a little, and opened the beer. Alphinaud took a second bottle, and opened it as I took a long swallow from mine. I watched him as he sniffed of the beer, then took an experimental swallow. More often than not, during those evenings with Tataru, he'd kept to wine. _He's not going to like Ishgardian lager._

I hid my smile by drinking some more as he made a face. “That is...quite strong.”

“It grows on you.” I laughed quietly. “But I never drink more than two in a sitting.”

“I can imagine.” He took another sip.

“Take a bigger swallow than that,” I suggested. “It's meant to fill the mouth, the flavor sort of...I don't know, it's just better that way.”

He eyed me as if he thought I was joking, then tried it, knocking back a big swallow. His eyes widened as he nearly choked, and a little foam escaped from the corner of his mouth.

I couldn't help laughing aloud. “I didn't say _agitate_ it! There are a lot of bubbles.”

He spluttered, and I patted his back to help him get his breath back. “I noticed,” he gasped.

He started to set the bottle aside, and I held my hand out for it. “Don't waste the stuff, Alphinaud.”

He let me take the bottle, and dug in the basket again, coming up with a much smaller bottle. It had a strange looking neck and top, and the liquid inside was a brilliant ruby red.

“What is _that_?” I asked. “I've never seen a bottle like that.”

“Something from Sharlayan,” he said. “One of my father's favorites.”

“Oh? And not yours?”

“I like it well enough.” He manipulated the bottle top, and a loud pop made me jump a little. He grinned at me. “My personal favorite from this vineyard isn't usually made available to foreign merchants, though.”

I caught a whiff of sweetness as he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. A tiny sphere of glass rattled around in the bottom of the bottle. _Somehow I doubt that's even alcoholic_.

He reached into the basket again, and brought out some cheese and a pair of apples. “We oughtn't to drink on empty stomachs, after all.”

I ate one of the apples and finished my beer, before he spoke again.

“What's troubling you, Berylla? Something is, I can tell.”

“I don't know.”

He eyed me as I lifted the other bottle of beer. “You don't know, or you don't want to talk about it?”

I took a swallow. “I...it's just a bad feeling. Like something's coming, something we aren't ready for.”

“Those Warriors of Darkness have you worried too, don't they?”

“It's not just that, though yes, they're part of it.” I shook my head, and finished the second beer in one long swallow.

“I wish sometimes we had some hint of the future,” Alphinaud sighed. “Urianger is so fond of books of prophecy, but they're nigh on useless for anything practical.”

“The visions aren't much help either,” I muttered, and ate a piece of cheese.

“Visions?”

“Yeah. I get them, sometimes. I don't mean when I walk in someone's memories either. Sometimes it's this...strange place. I don't know how to explain it. But sometimes...” I slanted a glance at him. “I had one before your sister and I discovered Bahamut. But all it showed me was the two of you weeping.”

He shifted, crossing his arms and taking another sip of his drink. “Oh.”

“Have you ever talked to her about that place again?”

“No. I haven't heard from her much lately. She's been traveling about with some sort of merchant caravan, as a common guard.”

“Alisaie could never be common at anything.”

He smiled. “I agree. But she's not out to make a name for herself.”

“Oh, yeah,” I remembered her words to me. “Seeking out her own reasons for saving Eorzea.”

“She said she had made a friend. But I haven't had a letter from her since before...”

“She's all right, though?”

“Urianger keeps in touch with her, and _his_ latest letter said she was well. I trust him. He has watched over us since before we came here, you know. He was one of my grandfather's students.”

“So was Moenbryda.”

“And Papalymo, for that matter.” Alphinaud's smile was fond. “I haven't met more than half the people my grandfather taught. He was as generous with his wisdom as he was with all else.”

“I liked him a lot.”

Alphinaud looked over at me, his expression confused.

“Oh. You don't know. Right.”

“Eh?”

“Any more beer or anything?”

He fished around in the basket, and came up with one of the green bottles of the ale we usually drank at the Stones. I took it, opened it, and drank before I spoke.

“Okay, so...you know I'm the Warrior of Light, but what do you know about what that means?”

“That you bear the power of the Mother, and you are fated to give your life in service to Hydaelyn,” Alphinaud said it as if reciting. “You are blessed with the Echo, though the Echo alone does not necessarily make one the Warrior of Light. You are uniquely gifted in combat. You can walk in the memories of others, sometimes. And apparently you receive visions from Her.”

“I also don't die.”

He gazed at me, and I tried again. “Well, not exactly. It's...hard to explain. I'm not sure I even understand it. But some of those memories I walk in are _mine_ , Alphinaud. Some of the things I can do when I'm fighting are because I've been fighting for...for...” I shivered a little and drank more ale. “For a long time.”

“How much do you remember? Of...your past?”

“Only bits and pieces,” I said. “I can't just remember whatever I want, either. But I do remember Louisoix.” I snorted quietly. “Of course, no one remembers me.”

“Grandfather wrote to me and Alisaie once or twice,” Alphinaud said slowly. “He mentioned the Warrior of Light but...I think he said that he was a man.”

“I don't doubt it.” I couldn't help the wry smile when I saw the confusion in his face. “I suspect that my physical form changes every time Hydaelyn has to bring me back.”

“So you were never a little girl, then.”

“Nor did I have parents,” I nodded, remembering that conversation with Haurchefant. It felt like months ago. “And sometimes...like right now...I feel really...really unsettled by that.”

“Why?”

“I feel like I don't know how to be a person, sometimes.” The ale was cool as it slid down my throat, and I set the empty bottle aside. “I've been...really angry lately. A lot. Way more than I should be, and I can't seem to calm down sometimes.” I leaned my head on my hand. “That's why I felt so bad about yelling at you.”

“There are a lot of things to be angry about, right now. Certainly frustrated about, at the very least.” He finished his own drink, and lay his head back against the wall. “I imagine you feel pulled between obligations and worries. You have not only our troubles, but Ishgard's as well, loaded onto your shoulders.”

“Before...before we had to run, I didn't have this much trouble with rage.” I tugged on my hair. “Maybe something's wrong with me, Alphinaud. Really wrong.”

“I don't think so.” He reached over and rubbed my shoulder. “I think most other people would have broken under the weight you carry, but I don't believe you will.”

“Gods, I hope I don't. There's too much that needs doing.”

He laughed a little. “Indeed. We still must find Minfilia, and Yda and Papalymo, at the very least, before I'll give you permission to break down.”

I looked over at him, and had to laugh. “Good to know you'll keep me on task.”

“Someone has to.” He glanced up at the sky. “It's getting late. We should probably go in.”

“Eh.” I settled my shoulders against the wall and crossed my arms. “It's warm out, and it never rains when the gloom is in. I could sleep right here and be fine.”

“...you've drunk too much.”

“Yup, little bit. Let's be honest, Alphinaud, you aren't going to be able to drag me downstairs.” I half closed my eyes and smiled. “It's fine.”

“Well then, I'll just sit with you.”

“Not _all_ night. You need a bed. Growing boy and all that.”

“Shut up, Berylla.”

I snorted a laugh.

I felt his shoulder come up against mine. “Tomorrow, Thancred and Krile should be back from their explorations,” he said. “Perhaps they will at last have something more to help us find Minfilia.”

“Hm,” I mumbled, already sinking into sleep. “Would be nice.”


	40. Whatever It Takes

The sun gleamed off the white stones of Idyllshire; I squinted a little as I listened to Krile explain what she had found.

“As we postulated, there were indeed what appeared to be the remnants of an unexplained disturbance in the aether at the scene of the Ultima Weapon's destruction. A ripple at odds with the presiding pattern. Though faint, the waveforms bore a strong resemblance to those observed following the destruction of the Isle of Val─when I believe Hydaelyn shielded me with the blessing of Light.”

“We also paid a visit to the aqueducts,” Thancred added. “There Krile detected the same waveform, but orders of magnitude larger...as one would expect of a more recent disturbance.”

 _Even Thancred gets this stuff better than I do_.

Y'Shtola nodded. “Hydaelyn.”

“But there is more,” Krile said. “When I studied the site where Y'shtola used Flow, it appeared that not two but _three_ beings had been affected. Yet unlike Y'shtola and Thancred, there was no trail to follow. Our unknown third party was simply there...and then not there.”

She turned towards me. “Now, recall your visions of a vast crystal floating in a sea of aether. Though this too is but a theory, studies of gifted subjects suggest that, when communing with Hydaelyn, we briefly leave our bodies behind.”

“...You can study that?” I blinked at her. “I didn't even know anyone else saw...stuff like that.” Hell, I didn't even know what I was looking at. A sea of aether?

“Yes, it's not uncommon actually.”

I tried not to bridle at the condescension.

“So, let us consider the facts. One─Hydaelyn interceded. Two─a third being was caught in Y'Shtola's Flow and vanished without a trace. And three─Hydaelyn may have the capacity to summon the consciousness of gifted individuals to Her side.”

Y'Shtola's eyes were narrowed in thought. “You are implying, I take it, that Hydaelyn guided Minfilia into the compass of my magic...that She might summon her, body and soul, unto the aetherial sea? In which case, we must needs continue our search there. For a blessing, the means to do so already exists.” She looked at each of us in turn. “I speak of the Antitower─a Sharlayan construction conceived to provide scholars a vantage point over the aetherial sea. Though I know not where its entrance lies, we need only ask its last custodian─a contrary old crone who, for _another_ blessing, refused to join the exodus.”

“What does Matoya not watch over, out here?”

“Nothing. In fact she and the goblins are probably going to come to blows over that fact one day soon.”

I snorted. “I pity them if they're fools enough to actually piss her off. Anyway, let's get going.”

We gathered up our mounts and rode out into the Answering Quarter.

“Krile.”

“Hm?”

“I'm confused about something. I don't understand – honestly I don't understand most of what you even study, all right? So maybe this is obvious to you, but it's not to me. Isn't it bad for Minfilia to be stuck in...in some kind of sea like this?”

“Oh, not to worry,” Krile answered. “The aetherial sea isn't at all like the Life-stream.”

I felt thick. “It's not?”

She gave me a sideways glance. “Have you never studied even the basics of aether theory?”

“Look, I'm bad at math, all right? The stuff Alphinaud reads for fun gives me nightmares.”

She laughed. “I think you're not giving yourself enough credit. The basics aren't that difficult.”

“But this sea is...?”

“The best theories we have,” she said, “indicate that the aetherial sea is where Hydaelyn resides, if you will. It's a place bound to the world, but outside the world.”

“When I see it...” I hesitated. “I thought I was just having a vision, of a place full of stars. Some kind of symbol, or something.”

“Nothing so esoteric,” Krile nodded. “The aetherial sea really doesn't look much like a sea in the sense of the oceans we are familiar with.”

“A sea of stars?” I frowned. “That sounds poetic but – weird.”

“Well, soon enough,” she said, “you'll be visiting the place voluntarily for the first time.”

Matoya looked up as we entered. “Oh, what a surprise. Well? What secrets have you come to extract from me this time?”

Alphinaud's ears flushed. “Though it pains me to admit it, your words strike close to the mark. We humbly ask that you grant us entry to the Antitower, that we might use it to seek a friend who we believe has been transported to the aetherial sea.”

“And who told you I could do such a thing, I wonder.” Y'shtola's tail twitched, twice. Matoya sighed, and nodded. “The tower was abandoned to its magical keepers fifteen years ago. They have the run of the place now. If that is no deterrent to you, then by all means.”

“Is that all? I felt sure you would seek to dissuade us from our course, given your role as custodian.” Y'Shtola's tail lashed again.

“Role? Hardly. The Forum foisted the title on me.” Matoya snorted. “During the exodus, every entrance to the Antitower was sealed save one. My _role_ consists of making sure no one with ill intent sneaks through it. Such was the Forum's final “order” to me.” She rattled her fingers on her table. “Well? I can remove the wards right now. Will you be going or not?”

Krile nodded. “We will. We'll do whatever it takes to find Minfilia!”

Matoya rattled her fingers once more. “We'll see about that.” She shuffled over to a door set in the cave wall, and rapped her staff against it twice. With a rattle as if of heavy chains – though no chains were in sight – the door creaked open an inch.

_Huh. I thought that might have been a closet or something._

“Berylla can go. Take the magic-less rogue too if you like─he's no use to me. The rest of you will stay and work, and I'll hear no argument. Those are my terms.”

Thancred shrugged. “I should be delighted to accompany you. Lead the way, Berylla.”

“Thancred, no.” Y'Shtola blocked his way. “Your aetheric flow has been compromised. Do not deny it. To venture into an environment so thick with aether, so close to the aetherial sea would be to risk further impairment─or worse.”

He scowled at her. “But Minfilia could be in there, waiting for us!”

“And you could _die_ ─and for what? If she is waiting beyond, Berylla will find her. Trust in her. Have faith!”

I watched, silent. Thancred stood staring at Y'Shtola for a minute, but she didn't waver. Finally, he looked away, his shoulders sagging. “Damn it all.”

He looked to me. “Bring her back to us.”

I nodded gravely. Then I smiled at him. “Beat Matoya at cards, while you wait on me, eh?”

I heard the old woman snort, and Thancred managed a small smile.

_A place of stars._

_She hung in the void before me._

_For those we have lost. For those we can yet save..._

_I reached out._

_**Go forth...and seek...**_

“No...”

I opened my eyes, and found myself standing in Matoya's cave. Thancred and Alphinaud were running toward me. Krile's hands were over her mouth, and I knew she _knew_.

I wanted to fall to my knees. I wanted to howl with grief. But I was too cold inside.

“Did you find her?” Thancred demanded. “Did you find Minfilia?”

“I...” My voice rasped in my throat. “I saw her. She spoke to me. No...” I put my fingers to my aching temples. “They spoke to me. The Word...the Word of the Mother...”

“What does that mean?”

I stumbled through the explanation – how I had seen a being so like Minfilia, yet who had said she was no longer that person...her cryptic words. My voice seemed too loud in the cave, in the silence. I couldn't look at anyone. My head pounded, my stomach felt sick. I felt _brittle_.

“The Word of the Mother?” Alphinaud echoed. “I am not sure I understand.”

Y'Shtola looked to Krile. The Lalafellin regarded me, her lip trembling.

Thancred scowled.

“As unbelievable as it sounds,” Krile said slowly, “I see no reason to doubt the Word's tale. No one was more sensitive to the will of Hydaelyn than Minfilia.” She bowed her head. “And if Hydaelyn has grown so weak that she can barely make Herself heard, it is not hard to see why Minfilia, having joined with Her, might struggle to maintain her own form.”

“Why would she need to maintain her own form?” asked Alphinaud. “Are you saying – are you saying she's gone?”

Krile didn't answer, only looked down.

Alphinaud's voice shook. “But that cannot be! Not now, not after all we have accomplished! We were meant to usher in the dawn's light together!” His voice went high as he choked on tears.

Matoya snapped, “She threw herself on the fire to fuel your “dawn's light,” boy! You'll just have to usher it in on your own.”

“Must you be so ungentle?” Y'Shtola demanded.

Matoya didn't seem to hear her. “In chasing after these lofty goals of yours,” the old woman said to Alphinaud, “you seem to have lost sight of some basic truths.”

She swept her gaze across us all. “To win a war, you must be willing to do whatever it takes. To fight, to kill, and if necessary...to die.”

She turned back to Alphinaud and her voice was harsher than ever. “The path you've chosen is paved with the dead. Walk it with your eyes open, or not at all.”

Tears ran down his cheeks.

Y'Shtola's voice was just as hard as her master's. “I know the truths of which you speak, and have from the first. If the Ascians will go to any lengths to resurrect their god, then we must needs be as committed to our cause – to unmask them and their schemes, and to crush them both utterly.”

She turned to Krile. “Come. There is much to be done.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and walked out. Krile spared a moment for a distracted curtsy to Matoya before trotting after.

Thancred brushed past me, and I winced away from him. Alphinaud tried to speak to him, but Thancred walked past him as if he didn't exist.

Alphinaud stood staring after them. “No...this is all wrong...”

He walked away, but his steps were unsteady.

Matoya sighed.

“It is the blessed few who get to choose how and when and for what they die.” She looked over at me. “Not that you need reminding, I suppose. But that boy...”

“He's just a boy,” I whispered.

“For all the suffering he has known, he still clings to the notion that there is a cosmic justice, a morality by which we are all saved or condemned. And there isn't.”

Her words hurt me. “You're right,” I managed. “But the pain isn't less, just because the idea of “it's not fair” is a false one.”

“And that too isn't fair, is it?”

“No. It's not.” I bit my lip. “It's not fair at all.”

“Go after him.”

I looked at her.

“I'm old, not blind, girl. Go after him. Comfort him, empty though that comfort might be in the end. Comfort yourself.”

“Matoya...”

“Don't you dare cry on me.” She waved her arm, as if warding me away. “I'm too old and bitter to put up with it.”

“You're not. But I'll do as you say. And...” I swallowed back a sob, “and thank you.”

I found Alphinaud pacing in one of the odd courtyards on the “city” side of the shallow stream. I approached him, leading Midnight by her reins.

“Hey.”

“What do you want?”

“For you to come with me.”

“They left for Ishgard already.”

“I don't care where Y'Shtola and the others are. I'm worried about you. Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Come and find out.” I held my hand out to him. After a moment more, he took it.

Midnight usually didn't carry two. Willing and strong as she was, she managed. When she landed, I let her run loose. The lawn in front of the Library was more than lush enough for her to browse for a bit.

I guided Alphinaud over to a bench that overlooked the entire valley.

He flopped down onto the stone, his head hanging. I sat down next to him, brushing my shoulder against his.

“She's not coming back, is she.”

“No.”

He ran his hands over his face.

“It hurts,” I said. “It's like we're being punished even though we did everything we could. It feels as though she's being taken away from us. It feels _unfair_.” I put my hand on his back. “But she did what she felt was best. She _chose_ this, Alphinaud. She chose to stay.”

“How can you say that? She's gone.”

“Not yet, she's not. No, we won't ever get to hug her again. But she could have accepted death. Instead she gave her soul to Hydaelyn.”

“I understand why she made her decision.” His voice trembled. “Every time we lose another friend, I have to ask myself if there was not another way.”

“I know what you mean. But I don't think there is another way – not one that will allow us all to remain free and alive and with a chance to live in peace.”

His shoulders shook.

I pulled him closer. He resisted me for a moment, but when I tugged more insistently, he turned and put his arms around my waist, burying his head on my shoulder.

I held him, and let my own tears flow as he sobbed into my vest.

“I know,” I whispered. “I know.”

It was nightfall before the two of us could manage to stop crying.

Before I parted ways with Alphinaud, he told me, “I will inform Tataru of what we have learned. Pray don't breathe a word of this to Minfilia's mother...”

“No.” I gave him one more hug. “After you talk to Tataru, get some rest. Even if you don't think you can, try to, okay?”

“Only if you'll do the same.”

“I have to speak with Aymeric first,” I shrugged. “But after that.”

“Give him my regards,” Alphinaud said, almost automatically.

“I will.”

I walked into Aymeric's office as the bells at the top of the Vault rang the hour.

He looked up from a paper, and smiled. “A pleasure to see you again. I take it you received our invitation?”

“Yes. It was sufficiently vague to make me come ask you what you're planning.” I dredged up a smile, knowing it probably looked tired.

“I have set about making formal arrangements for a peace conference between ourselves and the dragons.”

The little tremor of excitement in his voice brought a better smile to my face. I felt like the flames of hope in me had guttered, learning of Minfilia's fate; the hope in his eyes brought a little more fuel to mine.

“You and yours have done more to bring us together than any, and it is only right that you attend.” He spread his hands. “I confess that is not the only reason I would be glad to have you there. Given Nidhogg's implacable opposition to the peace, it is possible that he and his followers may attempt to disrupt proceedings, in which event, your presence would be a comfort to all in attendance.” His voice grew intense. “I have no wish to invite the wyrm's ire, you understand. But if our nation is to heal – if we are to move forward as a people united – we must do _whatever_ is necessary to bring about lasting change.”

_Whatever it takes._ I knew exactly what he meant.

He winced, and sagged against his desk for a moment. I took a half step forward before he raised one hand, waving me off.

He passed his hand over his eyes, and shook his head. “Nothing...it's nothing.” He sighed. “Lucia cautioned me against giving vent to my passions, lest my wounds reopen.”

I bit my lip, even as he gave me a reassuring smile.

“The people are ready. This conference must go ahead!”

I heard more than what he was saying aloud. He wouldn't let his injuries interfere. He wouldn't let his political opponents sabotage him, either. _Whatever it takes_. I nodded.

“I knew you would understand.” His eyes warmed me.

“Where?” I asked.

“On the border, in Falcon's Nest,” he answered. “Lucia is there now, overseeing the final preparations. I'd like you to join her at your earliest convenience.”

I nodded again, and started to turn.

“Oh – one more thing.”

I looked back as he came around his desk. “A drink!” He was suddenly awkward, almost boyish. “We should make time for one. Once the conference is concluded, I mean.”

I took his hands in mine and smiled. “A drink sounds very nice.”

“By my reckoning, it is...long overdue.” His voice dropped to a murmur as his eyes fixed on mine.

I wanted to press against him, but I made myself ease back. _He doesn't need you bawling all over him, much less trying to jump his bones right now. Keep yourself under control, Berylla. Let the poor man heal, at least!_

“I should get some rest,” I managed. “And so should you, Aymeric. Or did you not notice the time?”

“I was waiting for you,” he retorted, and I laughed a little. He squeezed my hands. “I would walk you home...”

“But appearances,” I nodded. “I'm well able to get to the manor on my own. I'd be almost more worried about you.”

“Lucia assigned me guards for the duration.” He made a face. “A wise precaution, but one I will be glad to dispense with as soon as may be.”

“Then I shall take my leave of you for now, lord commander,” I said, my tone giving the lie to the formal words.


	41. Consequences

The mood aboard the airship coming back to Ishgard from Falcon's Nest was less than festive.

Thancred stayed near the front railing, his face turned to the wind in spite of the icy temperatures. Honoroit lay on the deck, the doctor keeping a close eye on him.

Emmanellain, on the other hand, was sulking.

I stood behind him as he leaned on the railing, on the opposite side from where the doctor sat with the injured servant. I couldn't see his face, but I didn't need to. The bruise on his jaw was already spectacular, and was only going to get more so before it started to heal. Thancred hadn't pulled the blow one bit.

He turned his head as if to look at Honoroit, then stopped as he caught sight of me.

I stepped up beside him. He looked at me, as if expecting me to start lecturing him, but I just stood, arms crossed, my eyes on the gently waving wing of the airship.

_He always babbles. Habit will take over soon enough. All I have to do is wait._

It took longer than I had expected, but eventually, he started to talk.

His voice was low, no longer ebullient or carefree. “What else was I supposed to do? Someone had to do something. Artoirel wasn't there as he should have been...” His hands tightened on the railing, the knuckles going white, as he continued in much the same vein, repeating himself over and over.

I waited him out.

“Are you even listening?” he demanded finally. _There's my opening_.

I raised my eyes to his. I let him see the disappointment I felt in him, the pain I felt for him, the weariness – all of it. He stared, falling silent.

“Haurchefant would not have done what you did,” I said simply. He turned pale. “You panicked, Emmanellain. That is what boys do, when they have to deal with a crisis for the first time. But unlike most boys, your panic nearly got your friend killed.”

He choked, and turned his face away. “What do you know about it?! You're the perfect warrior, you've never panicked in your life! You always know what to do, don't you?!”

I waited, again, until he shut up.

“You want to know what I know about it?” My voice was quiet, forcing him to listen hard to hear me. “I did all that I could, trying to save a friend. I did _everything right_. And do you know what happened, Emmanellain?”

He shook his head, his eyes confused.

“She's dead, Emmanellain. She's _dead_ , even though I didn't panic, didn't hesitate.” I took a half step forward, and he fell back, swallowing hard. “I've failed plenty of times, boy. I've made mistakes. But do you know what I never do?”

“No, of course I don't.”

“ _I don't fucking make excuses for myself._ ”

He flinched.

I pointed at Honoroit. “He paid the price for your fuck-up, Emmanellain. You feel bad about him getting beaten? Good. But wailing about it doesn't make up for it. Blaming your brother for being elsewhere doesn't fly.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” He threw his arms wide. “I can't make him better! I can't stop anything that's happening! What the _hells_ am I supposed to do?!”

“That's something I can't tell you.” I stepped forward again, and he retreated again, only to fetch up against the bulkhead. I stabbed my finger into his chest. “ _You_ have to answer that question. _You_ have to use your head. You have to stop waiting for everyone else to tell you how to live your damned life.”

The look he gave me was so full of panic that it made me hurt.

“When you decide for _yourself_ ,” I told him, “that's when you're a man. When you make your own decisions, and live with them.” Then I stepped away. “And until you've done so? Don't speak to me again.”

I walked away to stand beside Thancred.

Aymeric listened to our report, and nodded, with no surprise in his expression.

“To dwell so deeply on the war and the vengeance it begets, only for that too to be taken away─is it any wonder that they were left bereft? For what was this sacrifice? Have we naught to show for our suffering? I thought peace a sufficient salve, but perhaps I was mistaken.” Aymeric's eyes met the Count's.

Count Edmont, standing beside me in front of Aymeric's desk, sighed. “Regardless of his intent, the result is undeniable. Emmanellain has furthered the cause of these misguided few who cannot let go of the past. In an instant, the delicate peace we were poised to forge is once more beyond us.”

Aymeric shook his head. “We are warriors, Lord Edmont, and ours is a nation built on centuries of warfare. Right or wrong, this is who we are, and we deny it at our peril. To hold on to the past, without being beholden to it... Aye, we must needs find a way to honor the sacrifice of our forefathers without glorying in their excesses.”

“A difficult path, to be sure. We dare not deny the scars which mar our nation's soul, lest we spur other disillusioned souls to retrace them... “ The Count sighed deeply, his shoulders bent as if under a heavy load. “But, as you say, we dare not revel in past glories either, for they are tainted all. A clear, unambiguous enemy, and an undeniably righteous cause...it is a bitter reflection, but lies though they were, they did long serve to unite us.”

“No truth will ever serve as well, I fear. Yet...we are not without options.” Aymeric's voice took on a thoughtful tone. “At our last meeting, a proposal was tabled by the other members of the Eorzean Alliance for joint military exercises─to strengthen the ties between our nations, and test our readiness to meet with a common threat. I had thought to delay these exercises until after the peace conference, but perhaps a grand melee would be just the thing to lift our beleaguered spirits.”

As the Count looked up with interest, Aymeric snapped his fingers. “Better still, an occasion for the Temple Knights and the watch to take the field as allies─a unified Ishgardian force filled with men and women from all walks of life, which would stand against a coalition of the allied nations' finest! Hosted by Ishgard, in the shadow of the Gates of Judgment! A victory under such circumstances would serve as a reaffirmation─nay, a declaration to all and sundry that we are as strong and united as ever!”

I raised my eyebrows, but the Count was nodding, stroking his chin in thought. “Such a victory would do much to fan the flames of patriotism, it is true. But if we should be defeated...? Though...even to hold our own against the cream of three nations might be presented as a triumph...” He nodded.

“Very well. You may count on my support, for what little it is worth. However, I have a request: I would have my son Emmanellain take part in the grand melee. By his deeds has he brought shame upon Ishgard, and so by his deeds I would have him bring our nation honor.”

Aymeric regarded the older man for a long moment, then nodded. “As you wish, my lord. If that is his desire, then it shall be so.”

I thought about my lecture to Emmanellain on the airship, and wondered how the kid would react to this bit of news.

“Berylla.” I turned my attention to Aymeric. He held out a folded paper to me. “Would you be so kind as to deliver my instructions to Lucia? I shall write to the Alliance leaders at once and begin making arrangements for the grand melee.”

The Count turned to me. “Should you chance to see my son, pray inform him of his duty. He will do his utmost to avoid me. See that he does not evade you.”

“Oh, he won't.”

I took the papers, nodded to them both, and took myself out.

I stepped outside into the main room, and saw Thancred waiting. Lucia was nowhere to be seen, but I knew she'd be here soon enough. I spoke quietly, relating to Thancred the unusual suggestion Aymeric had put forth.

“And what part would they have you play in this affair, I wonder. You, whom they have taken into their confidence, upon whom they have come so heavily to rely. And will you oblige them, when the proposition is made?”

“Probably,” I said easily. “I've done so all this time. And I have friends here, comrades, family. I won't leave them hanging if they ask me to stand with them.”

He gave me an odd smile, and then tilted his head. “Hm. Ser Aymeric wishes to field a force comprising both his Temple Knights and Hilda's watch, yes? I can only imagine what she will have to say about that.” His eye twinkled in a way I knew too well. “In fact, curiosity compels me to go and see for myself.” He strolled out.

I shook my head, laughing just a little.

Lucia came down the stairs that led to the upper barracks, and seeing me, walked over immediately. “Berylla? Do you need something?”

I handed her Aymeric's papers. She glanced at them, and rubbed at her mouth.

“Aye...I was aware of the Alliance's request. So─Ser Aymeric would turn these exercises into a spectacle for the masses. It is not that I doubt the efficacy of such a plan. Indeed, I know its effectiveness only too well, having witnessed it firsthand.”

I nodded, remembering how she and I had discussed exactly that.

“Nevertheless, he has not once given me reason to doubt his intentions─and these are desperate times indeed.” She nodded firmly. “I will select knights for the event forthwith. As for the watch...”

“Thancred decided to go tell Hilda in person,” I told her.

“...Did he now? How considerate of Master Thancred to seek out our young watch commander of his own volition.” Her green eyes glittered, and I chuckled. “Alas, he acted prematurely. Pray deliver this list of watch candidates to Hilda. I would have her best men, not her most dispensable.”

“Fair enough. I'll leave you to the rest of your preparations.”

“Send Hilda my regards.”

Hilda was in high spirits. “Thancred's been tellin' me all about Ser Aymeric's grand soirée. Seems we're expected to join in. It's nice of him to invite us and all, but I hope he knows what he's doin'─'cause we ain't dressed to dance with professional bleedin' soldiers.”

I handed over the list Lucia had given me. “Well, well─seems the first commander's gone and handpicked her guests. Can't say I disagree with her choices, though. She's got a good eye.” She cocked her head at me, her ruby eyes curious. “Will you be fightin' too? Reckon it'd inspire the lads if you were. Might take their minds off gettin' their hides tanned, and all. Think about it, eh?”

“I will.”

Thancred walked with me as I left Hilda to organize her people.

“I hate to ask, but you haven't see our favorite lordling, have you?”

I shook my head. “No, but I've a good notion where he is. I'll track him down.”

As I had guessed, Emmanellain was in his usual spot, at the front of the high market street. I paused a moment, looking at him from the top of the steps that led down into the market proper. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, almost looking more like a ruffian than a gossip-hungry lordling. I noticed that people were giving him a wide berth, and understood then that the rumors of what had happened in Falcon's Nest had spread far and wide in the city. A punishment that had to sting as much as his bruised jaw – his reputation had been blackened.

I walked up to the drink seller, and bought two mugs of hot tea. Snow was beginning to fall, and I felt the need of the warmth after walking across the city from the Brume.

Then, I went over to lean against the wall beside Emmanellain. I handed him one mug, and drank, not speaking.

“I carried Honoroit to the manor,” he said quietly, looking into the mug as if searching for answers there. “Our best doctors are tending to him as we speak. He has yet to wake, but surely...surely he will.”

“I believe he will,” I nodded. “Ser Aymeric is planning a grand melee, a spectacle for the city. Your father wishes you to participate.”

“My beloved family. Always making my decisions for me.” He looked over at me, and saw me rolling my eyes.

“No, it's not like that! It's just...Oh, you wouldn't understand. How could you? You are free to be the woman you want to be.”

I drank my tea. “And you're not?”

“I am a son of House Fortemps, don't you see? My future was determined before I was born. What I could and could not do. Right or wrong, that was the way of it─until the old order began to crumble. Now we wander in the rubble, searching for a purpose, for a place...”

I regarded him with mild surprise. I'd never thought of the upheaval in quite that way. But he was continuing.

“All around me, brave men and women rise to the occasion. With faith and conviction they dedicate themselves to their causes. But not I. I was terrified of making the wrong choice, which is why I let better men make them for me. Do this, do that, take this duty, guard this conference.” He shook his head, grimacing. “I suppose I had convinced myself I was above it...until your friend showed me otherwise.”

He looked at the mug in his hand almost as if he had forgotten what it was for, then took a long drink. “When I saw Honoroit, I wanted to scream. I wanted someone to blame! But, in the end, there was only me. Only me.”

“Yes.” I left it at that.

He straightened away from the wall, and looked at me. “So you see, I cannot meekly bow my head and accept Father's command. Such cowardice is what brought me to this point. I will go to Ser Aymeric, and I will make my own decision.”

He walked away, and I watched him go. _Is he going to tell them no, I wonder?_

Finishing my tea, I followed after him.

Emmanellain walked into the Congregation and looked around for a moment, before making his way to the door leading to Aymeric's office. I let him lead, as Thancred walked up to me. “Found him, did you?”

“I think he just might have begun to find himself,” I murmured, as the two of us followed the young lord.

Aymeric and the Count were talking quietly when we entered. Emmanellain approached, his jaw set. Thancred, as was his habit, went to lean against the wall, out of the way.

The Count eyed his son with a small frown, but Aymeric's gaze was calm, patient.

“Ser Aymeric. I wished to speak with you before the grand melee.”

Aymeric traded looks with the Count, but then he nodded to Emmanellain. “Proceed.”

“How do you do it, my lord? How do you lead with such certainty when so many of our countrymen will not hear of peace with the Dravanians?” He seemed to gulp for breath, but continued, his voice strained. “Some of them hate you almost as much as the dragons themselves. They decry you as a patricide in the streets. They even tried to _kill_ you! Yet still you march on, undaunted, where no archbishop dared to tread. What is your secret? Where do you find the strength?”

Aymeric regarded him for a moment. “For centuries, our nation has been punished for the sins of our forefathers. If our punishment is to end, I believe we must right the wrongs of antiquity and move forward as a nation united. Needless to say, my father did not share this opinion.” His brows drew together. “He did not believe the people strong enough to bring about their own deliverance, trusting only in himself. Tyranny seemed to him the only solution.”

 _Gods, a far kinder assessment than I would ever have given the old bastard_.

“But I have faith in the people, Lord Emmanellain. I have faith that they will weather this storm, and overcome every trial set before them. Many have fought and died to see this blight upon our nation's history cleansed, and I would not see their sacrifices be in vain. Though we invite reprisals, the risk is worth the reward.”

Emmanellain stared at the lord commander as if trying to peer into his soul. Then he dropped his eyes for a moment. “I want to believe,” I heard him murmur, as if to himself. Then he raised his head high.

“Lord Commander. Through my careless orders, a pall has been cast over these proceedings, and I beg the opportunity to make amends.” He drew himself up and made a formal salute. “I, Emmanellain de Fortemps, do hereby request leave to take part in the grand melee!”

Count Edmont stared at Emmanellain, his face a study in surprise – and rising pride. I saw Thancred bow his head, but I didn't miss the little smile on his lips.

Aymeric smiled. “Who am I to deny such a heartfelt plea? We would be honored to have you join the fray, my lord.”

Emmanellain nodded, and took a step back. Count Edmont looked as though he wanted to say something to his youngest son, but after a moment, he turned to Aymeric.

“You will take charge of the Ishgardian forces?”

“For all my other responsibilities,” Aymeric said, his voice firm, “I am still lord commander of the Temple Knights, and I will not yield this duty to another.”

“The esteemed Ser Aymeric, leading the Temple Knights and the watch into battle, along with my youngest. I could wish for no more.”

I saw Emmanellain notice the pride in those two, crucial words. “My youngest.” For half a second I wished with all my heart Haurchefant could have seen this moment.

But Aymeric stood up, and I pulled my attention back to him. “Then you wish for too little, my lord! There is another who might yet join the fray. An indispensable ally to whom we owe much and more.”

I all but heard Thancred mutter, “Told you so.”

Aymeric came around his desk to stand before me. “An adventurer beholden to none, who nonetheless chose to champion our cause.” His eyes held mine. “Who has shared in our suffering, and in our glory.”

I swallowed, struggling to control my expression. His words were formal, but I heard the meaning beneath them. _Haurchefant did this too, when he gave me Midnight..._

“You are a warrior without equal, and I am privileged to call you friend. There is no one I would rather have fighting by my side. I ask this in full knowledge of your obligations, and I will not think less of you should you refuse. But if your conscience will allow it, might you oblige me, my friend? One more time?”

I shut my eyes for a long moment, struggling to formulate a dignified response. Part of me wanted to jump up and down and screech YES, like some teenage girl. Part of me wanted to make outrageous demands of him – such as a week in my bed. My heart thundered in my chest, aching with joy. But I couldn't answer the feelings beneath his words – not outwardly, not here and now.

At last I was able to get my breath, and I opened my eyes. “I would be honored, Lord Commander,” I managed, with only a tiny tremor in my voice.

His smile was all I could have asked for. “We shall give the people a spectacle for the ages!”


	42. Peace, Assaulted

I stood with Thancred just outside the Congregation. Emmanellain had gone home to check on Honoroit, and the Count had joined him. Aymeric and Lucia had plenty of work ahead of them to arrange everything, and they didn't need me in their way.

Thancred crossed his arms, and regarded me. “Gods help me,” he drawled, “I think it might be love.”

I glared at him. “Shut up, Thancred.”

He laughed. “Perhaps I should be jealous,” he teased. “You never gave me such a look of adoration before.”

“You never wanted me to, either,” I scoffed. “Keep your notions to yourself. Not everyone is a scoundrel like you.”

“I am a most exceptional scoundrel, it's true,” Thancred grinned. “But you, my friend, are blushing.”

I started walking towards the ramp that would lead to the Brume, and Thancred fell in beside me, still chuckling. “Did you see how his eyes lit up when you nodded? A look of boundless relief and joy. One would think a politician more practiced at concealing his emotions.”

I led him down a path that ended in a small alcove – a place that had held a small shop, now just a burned out husk. His smile faded when I rounded on him.

“You're not funny, Thancred. Not this time.”

He eyed me. “Is there something I should know?”

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “Look. I _don't_ want to talk about this, but I will tell you the very, very basics, if you'll agree to keep it to yourself and not fuck with me about it again. Okay?”

“I'm listening.”

“A lot was left out, when Alphinaud was telling you our adventures. Some of it because he doesn't know about it and doesn't need to.” I took a deep breath. “Specifically, I had a relationship with someone. That person was also a very good friend to Aymeric.”

“A love triangle?”

“Shut the fuck up.” I shut my eyes. “He _died_ , Thancred. He died in Aymeric's arms after he saved my life. I still feel rotten about it. There _might_ be feelings between me and Aymeric.” I opened my eyes and glared at him. “But if there are, I don't want you making fun of them.”

He stared at me, appalled. “Berylla...”

“You couldn't have known. And I know you don't mean any harm. But I'm begging you, Thancred. Don't make sport of me this time.”

“I won't.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Should I be worried for you?”

“Gods...no. I have enough people worrying about me as it is. Alphinaud's half convinced he's in love with me, and worries himself sick over me every time I go into a fight. Y'Shtola's worrying about me because of all the “emotional upheaval” as she called it. Tataru still thinks I might throw myself off of the heights.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “It's been that bad?”

I swiped at my eyes. “Gods. Bad doesn't begin to describe some of the things that have happened. But I'm okay. I am.”

“All right. Well, I won't tease you – on one condition.”

“What?” I squinted at him, wary.

“If he ever hurts you – you'll tell me.”

“...okay.”

_A spectacle for the ages indeed. Worth taking nearly two months to arrange._ I traded back-slaps and congratulations with people, letting the crowd carry me toward the Steps of Faith. As I mounted the steps at last, I turned and saw Aymeric talking with the other Alliance leaders, and smiled a little. _We all got more out of this than I would have expected. Especially Emmanellain._

“I hope you didn't strain anything, single-handedly winning their battle for them,” Thancred commented from behind me.

“And did you enjoy your dance with the ogre?” I answered lightly. “You look none the worse for wear.”

He snorted as he stepped up beside me, arms crossed. “A scratch or two, nothing more.”

“All right, lads! Who's for an ale?”

A shout of general approval met those words, and there was a minor stampede towards the Gates. Thancred and I backed up against the wall, and I laughed as the eager mob passed us.

Emmanellain stopped just inside, panting for breath, leaning up against the opposite wall. The only dull spot on the day's glory for him was the absence of Honoroit. The servant boy had had to be sent away to recover shortly after he had regained consciousness. A cracked skull, a broken arm and leg, and a pair of broken ribs were not injuries to trifle with. And because Emmanellain couldn't stop “looking in” on the poor boy – well, he was recuperating at the Bronze Lake hot springs, and making good progress. The young knight had fought hard, and if his focus on training had been fueled as much by his worry for Honoroit as by real dedication, well, the weeks of training had still paid off handsomely.

Walking up at the tail end of the little flood of people came Aymeric and Lucia. He nodded to me and Thancred, and we joined him in crossing the great bridge, with Emmanellain following just behind the four of us.

Hilda fell back to walk with us as the main host surged forward – probably to descend on the Forgotten Knight. _Sure hope someone warned Gibrillont._

A few more words of congratulations were exchanged, and then Hilda waved to us and walked away towards the Brume. As she trotted down the wooden ramp, Alphinaud approached us – and he was not alone.

Emmanellain rushed past us. “Honoroit!”

The young servant smiled broadly. His forehead still bore an ugly mark, but he seemed to be in fine fettle. Emmanellain charged up to him, stopping just short of throwing his arms around the younger man. I didn't bother hiding my grin as the young lord cleared his throat in sudden embarrassment.

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Emmanellain asked the boy.

“Thank you for your concern, my lord, but I have largely recovered from my ordeal, and I have naught but several scars to show for it.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Which, I have been told, some women may find...appealing.”

Emmanellain set his hands on his hips. “I see! And to think I was worried sick about you!” He pretended as if he might cuff Honoroit, who stepped back in alarm.

But then Emmanellain started to chatter about the grand melee, walking off, with Honoroit following along as he always did. I watched them go, and my smile almost hurt my cheeks.

Aymeric and Lucia stepped to one side, conversing in low tones. Thancred came up to stand next to me, and Alphinaud stopped in front of us. “It would seem that a great many things have occurred in my absence. I thought I might begin to make amends by welcoming you in person.” His eyes sparkled. “They say you dueled General Raubahn within a ring of flames. I did not think the man so ostentatious. Would that I could have seen it.”

“Where were you, anyway?” Thancred asked.

“After we parted ways in Matoya's Cave, I returned here to speak with Tataru. We agreed to tell the others only that our search for Minfilia had reached an impasse.”

“Yes...” Thancred nodded. The pleasure in his face drained away at the reminder.

Aymeric turned towards us; I saw Lucia striding away. “I am going to reconvene the peace conference,” he told us. “Everything can be ready in a day. I trust you and the Scions will do us the honor of attending?”

Thancred nodded. “I'd best go and tell the others, then.” Without waiting, he walked away.

Aymeric turned to me. “My dear friend.”

I swallowed hard at those words, and saw his hand twitch as if he wanted to reach for me.

“I doubt I will ever be able to thank you enough. But when the conference is successfully concluded, I damn well mean to try.” The heat in his eyes gave me a sizzle of anticipation across my nerves. I had all I could do to simply nod.

He smiled, and with a last nod to Alphinaud, he turned and walked away.

Alphinaud gave me a look. “What?” I asked. “I _have_ done a lot for Ishgard, you know.”

He shrugged, and let it go. “I found out, after I had spoken with Tataru, that you had already left for Falcon's Nest. But I thought it best to keep to myself for a bit.” He gave me a small smile. “I am wont to rely on you overmuch when we are together, and I needed to think. To reflect.”

“I can't blame you for needing some time.”

“I still do, I suspect, but matters here seemed to be coming to a head.” He put one hand on my arm. “In short, there are some things I feel I must say─though nothing so urgent that it cannot wait until after the conference.”

“Oh. Okay.” I dragged up a smile. “Let's go and enjoy the party for a little bit, then?”

He grinned a little. “I am looking forward to hearing the full tale of your duel with Raubahn.”

The next morning, we all headed out to Falcon's Nest – not just Alphinaud and I and the other Scions, but many others. The ship was at capacity as it lifted off.

Once we had landed, Alphinaud wound his way through the crowd until he found a spot he liked. I followed him, as much because I had lost sight of the others instantly as anything else. “Look at their faces, Berylla,” he murmured.

I gazed around. Every Ishgardian was dressed in their best, the bright colors making the whole plaza lively. Chatter was everywhere, and though I couldn't pick out individual conversations, the overall tone was excited.

“As Ser Aymeric hoped, Ishgard's success at the grand melee has done much to restore the people's faith in this endeavor. They are nervous, yes, yet hopeful...” Alphinaud smiled a little. “Expectant, in a word.”

I nodded slowly, seeing the truth of what he said.

To our right, Krile waved at me from where she stood with Y'Shtola. Alphinaud scanned the crowd, and murmured, “I do hope Thancred will not be late. Epochal events do not come around very often.”

Then the crowd hushed as Aymeric appeared, up on the scaffolding. The white curtain that hid the wall behind him rippled in the breeze, and the sun glinted off his robe.

Someone gasped. “Look! There!”

All eyes were on the graceful white dragon, as Vidofnir glided in. She passed over the keep once, and then with the unearthly precision of all her kind, she came to a neat landing, ten feet away from Aymeric. The scaffolding held under her weight without a creak.

She greeted Aymeric, and I heard the collective gasp as all these nobles and small-folk heard a dragon's voice for the first time. Used to it as I was, I could still sympathize with the shock, the strangeness, of hearing that rumbling voice overlaid with the gentle voice in one's head.

I folded my arms as Aymeric began his speech.

“Since the days of old, when the bonds between man and dragon were sundered by our hand, our peoples have known only war. Bloodshed without end, losses beyond counting – and still we fought. And still we fought.” His gaze swept across the crowd. “Some wounds do not heal. The dead cannot be returned to us.”

My eyes stung. I heard no few small sniffles around me as Aymeric seemed to wait for those simple phrases to have their full impact.

“But we the living can yet choose another course. Here and now, we can lay down this burden – this hatred, this vengeance.” He spread his arms wide. “Our forebears fought not so that we could die, but that we might live! So let us honor their sacrifice, and spare our children this death sentence. Let us gift them a new legacy. Life!”

Vidofnir spoke. “Betwixt our peoples yawneth a divide greater than the deepest abyss; wider than the widest sea. Generations will live and lie ere this divide is bridged. Knowing this, doth they heart yet year for peace, son of Thordan?”

Murmurs in the crowd as Aymeric nodded once. “Look now,” he said, “on the legacy we would leave to our children. A dream of peace, inscribed in stone for generations to come.”

He turned to face that white curtain, and raised his hand. The fabric fluttered, and fell away.

The crowd gasped, and began to murmur once more. “Beautiful...”

Vidofnir gazed at the sculpture, her whole posture softening. Her voice was so full of emotion that even the densest person could not have ignored it. “Father and his beloved. As they were so long ago. Happy and at peace...”

The ache of longing in those words brought more tears to my eyes. _I hope these people are listening with their hearts as well as their heads. She wants peace as much as they do – maybe even more._

Vidofnir raised her head. “The dream they shared shall be ours once more,” she declared.

Aymeric bowed to her, and she lowered her head, giving his shoulder the barest touch.

The crowd began to clap and cheer. I wiped at my eyes a little.

“ _NEVER!!!_ ”

The shriek of rage echoed across the stones.

I saw him standing on a tower above the scaffolding, the crimson of his armor gleaming under the sun like freshly spilled blood. I cursed, and began to run for the heights. Behind me I heard Alphinaud gasp. “Estinien!”

The crowd got in my way as I tried to rush to the scaffolding, fearing what awful things Nidhogg's shade might do, using Estinien's form, Estinien's voice, Estinien's _lance_...

I was only just at the beginning of the stairs leading up when I heard Vidofnir scream in agony.

“How _dare_ you contemplate peace?!”

I raced to the top, my lungs burning, and attained the platform in time to see Aymeric take aim for Estinien with a bow he must have snatched from the knight beside him. The arrow sang as it sped towards the tainted dragoon's head.

Estinien – Nidhogg – raised one hand, and the arrow disintegrated a full yard away from him. Then he wrenched the lance out of his victim's flesh, and leaped for the heights once more. There, he lifted his arms, and levitated upward on a cloud of roiling black aether. “None shall escape my vengeance!”

With a roar, he transformed. The dark and angry shape of Nidhogg cast a shadow over the entire plaza below. Somewhere among the gathered folk, a woman began to weep.

But the great wyrm did nothing more than loom for a bare moment, before sweeping his wings and turning toward the mountains. In a heartbeat, he was gone.

Lucia ran forward. “Vidofnir!”

The great dragon moaned, and the knot in my chest loosened the tiniest bit. _She isn't dead, thank the gods._

In the plaza, a chant began to rise. “Death to Nidhogg!”

Aymeric turned to me, his eyes stormy and his jaw clenched. _Everything he had hoped this would accomplish, ruined with a single strike._ I saw his eyes rise, and turned to look at the beautiful sculpture, meant to stand as a symbol of hope and peace. It was splattered with dragon's blood.

Alphinaud stood beside me as the last of the guests climbed aboard the airship. “I'm waiting for the next one,” I told him. “I have no stomach for being in a crowd right now.”

He nodded. “I cannot blame you.” He sighed, glancing back at the plaza. “Until the moment I saw him strike, I still held some small hope that what you had seen in Azys Lla was...an illusion, perhaps. But he acted without hesitation...as did Ser Aymeric.” He turned back to me. “For a mercy, Vidofnir's wound was not mortal, or so Lucia told me. The dragon was spirited away to Anyx Trine to receive care from her brethren. We can but hope her recovery is swift. But such was surely Nidhogg's intent. To deliver a proclamation not only to the children of Thordan, but to his kindred. “ _War is coming, and ye who do not stand with us stand apart_.” She was an example─a message to her brood. Another instrument of his vengeance...like Estinien.” His voice was tight with anger.

The airship lifted off, and we watched it vanish into the clouds.

Alphinaud took a deep breath. “When I said I wished to speak with you after the conference, I confess I envisaged rather happier circumstances. If anything, however, this latest tragedy makes the need more pressing. There are things I must say. Not to the Warrior of Light, or even my fellow Scion, but...to you, Berylla. My friend.”

I tried not to look as nervous as his words made me feel. “What, right here?”

“No.” He reflected for a moment. “The intercessory in Camp Dragonhead is still open to us. Let us go there.”

“Oh. Sure.”

The intercessory was warm, as always.

I stood alone by the big table, and ghosts whispered around me. The times we'd listened to Aymeric here weren't among the memories that assailed me. I could almost hear Haurchefant's voice, softly speaking in my ear, telling me to hush, and not think. I could even see the edge of the table where he had...

I shook my head, trying to push _that_ memory away. But then my eyes fell on the chairs around the main table, and I was struck hard by the memory of how Alphinaud and I had sobbed together, in almost the exact spot where I stood now. How he'd sat in that chair, completely defeated. How Haurchefant had dosed him to make him sleep.

The door opened behind me, and I turned.

Alphinaud set down two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. I stared at them for a moment, trying not to burst into tears. _Too many memories...too much lost. Gods, get hold of yourself, Berylla_.

“I thought something warm might not go amiss,” Alphinaud said, but he didn't take up one of the mugs. Instead he just looked around. I wondered what memories filled his mind in this room.

“It was not all that long ago that we sat here, you and I,” he said. “In our very own Falling Snows, as Lord Haurchefant called it.”

I lowered my head.

“I still struggle to believe he has gone,” Alphinaud said. His voice was soft and sad. “And Ysayle too...I had such hopes for her.”

I didn't bother hiding the sniffle as I wiped my eyes.

“Master Matoya asked me,” he said, as if to himself, “what it was all for. Why we fight...and why we die. Were I still commander of the braves, I would doubtless have replied “For the future of Eorzea.” But I am not that man. Not anymore.”

The acceptance in his voice hurt me. I was glad he had moved on, but at the same time, I still grieved for what he had lost in coming to this point.

He looked up at me. “I needed a new answer. One that I could live with. When I saw Estinien at the ceremony, I knew at last what it was.”

He set his hands on my arms. “I do not want to be a man who sacrifices his friends and family for a cause. I want to fight for Estinien – and I want to save him.”

My eyes widened. _Can it even be done? Oh, but if it can_...

“When Nidhogg leads the Horde into battle, Ser Aymeric and his forces will do what they believe must be done. That is their choice to make. Yet even if Ser Aymeric is willing to forsake Estinien, I am not.” His fingers tightened on my arms. “We must fight for him, for his our friend and ally. We may struggle, we may fail – but we must _try_.”

I gripped his arms, then pulled him into a hug, squeezing my eyes shut. Memories flooded me once more.

 _A campfire in the Mists, and the whisper of cloth against metal as Estinien cleaned his lance. The sound of Ysayle's tears as she mourned for the lie she had treasured._ I felt Alphinaud's arms around me and for a moment I felt as if Haurchefant was once more embracing me, smiling as he so often had. _Gods...if I could have fought for Haurchefant...if I could have saved him_...

“We will,” I managed, my voice thick with tears. “We'll find a way to save him.”

Alphinaud's arms tightened. “We will. I know we will.”

He shifted back, and I let him go, scrubbing the tears from my face, and giving him a shaky smile. He touched my cheek for a moment.

Then he turned away, and took one of the mugs. He drank deeply. “Thank you, Berylla. It is unfair of me to unburden myself in this manner, time after time, but I am glad that you permit me nonetheless. You are my true friend and ally.”

His words, more formal as they were, gave me the time I needed to recover my composure. By the time I managed to pick up the other mug, my eyes were dry again.

“Though not all of our fellow Scions will support our stance on Estinien, I have faith that we will win them over in due course. Such is the infectious power of hope.”

I nodded. “Though maybe infectious isn't the best word to pair with hope. Wouldn't want them to get sick of it.”

His eyes narrowed at my word-play, and I couldn't help but smirk. _Sometimes the worse my attempts are, the better I like them._

“Right. That is quite enough solemn introspection for one night. I think we would both benefit from some time in the company of Tataru. She stays for us at Fortemps Manor. Let us not keep her waiting any longer.”


	43. Before You Go

Tataru was indeed waiting for us in front of the manor, but with her was someone I hadn't expected to see. “Jarilant?” I smiled. “It's good to see you again.”

“Indeed, Mistress Berylla.” The tall steward bowed. “I am sent from my lord Aymeric to fetch you.”

I blinked. “Oh?”

“I believe he discovered something of interest to you, and wishes to share it.”

I squashed my immediate urge to just leave them all standing there and run to Aymeric's house.

“Ah, I see. I will be with you in just a moment then, if you please.”

“Certainly, my lady.” He moved away a few steps.

Tataru gazed up at me. “Something of interest?”

“I have no idea,” I told her honestly. “But it shouldn't take long to find out. First, I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh, as to that.” She smiled at Alphinaud. “Krile and Y'Shtola will be here tomorrow. I gave them your message, and they said they do have some observations they want to share. They're just finishing their investigations in Falcon's Nest tonight, and want to meet with us at the Forgotten Knight, in the morning.”

“Ah!” Alphinaud's eyes lit up. “I was hoping they might be able to help me explore my notion.”

I nodded. “Well then, I suppose that means this evening is ours.” I pretended to yawn a little behind my hand. “I'd best go see what Aymeric wants, so that I can come back and turn in. It's been one hell of a day.”

Alphinaud touched my shoulder. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I nearly burst into gales of laughter. “No,” I managed, “thank you. I'm quite sure Jarilant can get me to House Borel without mishap.”

Alphinaud hesitated a moment more, but I was able to keep my face neutral enough that he finally shrugged, and turned to go inside.

I walked over to where Jarilant waited patiently, and nodded to him. As he turned to lead me away, I tried not to look back – but I couldn't help noticing out of the corner of my eye that Alphinaud stood and watched us go.

“Is he all right, Jarilant?”

“He is...well enough, my lady, given the circumstances.”

“His wounds...?”

“Were already healed enough, or the doctors would never have allowed him to participate in that grand melee,” Jarilant smiled.

“Oh, of course.” I shook my head. “He's so resilient. It was most distressing for all of us, when he was unable to leave his bed.”

“I'm told it was most distressing for Captain Whitecape and the other hospitalier knights.”

I gave the old steward a sideways glance, but I couldn't be sure if he had been joking or not.

We arrived, and Jarilant showed me inside. “Please, follow me,” he said once he had closed the front door. “My lord is in the garden.”

The garden, as it turned out, was a small space, completely walled in – twice the size of the bathing chamber at most. Arching over the walls were a set of glass panes, incredibly clear and somehow engineered to louver open and closed, allowing in breezes or keeping out snow at need.

The sun had slid down below the level of the walls, bringing twilight an hour or two early.

A stone path led to a circular stone patio, and on that patio, sitting at a gorgeously carved stone table, sat Aymeric. He was wearing a midnight blue shirt, and a pair of pants much looser than the ones I'd seen him wearing before.

He stood up when Jarilant and I stepped into the garden. I swallowed, seeing how...unkempt he looked. His hair – always tousled – looked like he'd been pulling at it. His eyes seemed swollen, and his shirt was haphazardly tucked into the waist of his pants. On the table, a crystal decanter rested, and a pair of glasses. One of them was half full of a dark amber liquid.  _ That looks familiar. _

With a wordless bow, Jarilant pulled a chair out for me by the table, and after I sat down, left us.

“You came.”

“Of course I did.”

He poured amber liquor into the second glass, and splashed more into the first one. He handed me the newly filled glass, and I took it.

“To old friends,” he said, and tapped my glass with his. I sipped the brandy, and Aymeric slammed back a third of his in one swallow.

“How much have you had so far?” I asked.

“Too much,” he said, his voice rough. “Not enough. I don't bloody know.”

“So am I here to drink with you, or to stop you from overdoing it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” I drank the brandy in my glass, managing not to gasp too much as it seared a path down my throat. “Do you want to try talking about it?”

“What good will that do, pray tell?” He drank another big swallow.

“Probably not much.” I picked up the decanter, and poured another finger of brandy into my glass. But when I set the decanter back down, it was near my elbow, not Aymeric's.

“I would have killed him.”

“I know.”

Aymeric set his elbows on his knees, and spoke with his eyes on his glass. “He is one of my oldest friends. I've known him longer than I knew Haurchefant.”

“Oh?”

“He's my age, you know. We joined the Temple Knights at nearly the same time, ten years ago. I learned his name soon enough, but Estinien barely registered my existence. I was less a fellow recruit, and more a shadow which occasionally darkened his path. And so I might have remained, had fate not seen fit to intervene. While out on patrol, our company was set upon by a dragon, and we were the only two to survive. The experience forged a bond between us, as such life-threatening situations are wont to do...”

He set his glass down on the table.

“And I tried to kill him today.”

“Oh.” I drank all of my own brandy in one swallow.

Aymeric put his hand over his eyes, slumping back in his chair.

“Aymeric...” I set my glass aside and went to him.

As soon as I touched his shoulder, he reached for me. I let him grab me around the waist, and put my arms around his shoulders. He leaned against me, his cheek pressed into my belly, and I just held him.

He never made a sound, but I knew he was weeping even before I felt the moisture soaking into my tunic. I stroked his hair, and leaned down a little to press my lips to the top of his head.

I thought about Alphinaud's idea – that maybe Estinien could be saved. I had no idea how we were going to manage it. _I don't want to offer him false hope_. So I simply held him.

He shifted back from me, his hands sliding to rest on my hips. “Forgive me. I'm not fit company.”

“Sh.” I kissed him, tasting the brandy on his lips. “It's all right.”

“Stay with me.”

“For a little while.”

He shifted, and I moved back, letting him lever himself to his feet. He reached out to me, and I let him take my hand. “Stay the night.”

I tugged on his hand gently. “I think we should visit the kitchen.”

He grunted, but let me lead him.

Milinne sat us down, and put a big pitcher of water on the table. “Drink it all,” she ordered Aymeric, in a mothering tone of voice. To me, she said, “Would you care for anything, milady?”

“A little tea would be good, please.”

As I sat and drank tea, Aymeric slowly and methodically drank the water. His eyes were far away, and I let him alone.

He finished the last mug full of water, and blinked slowly at the table. “All right,” he said, as if to himself, and stood up.

I watched him walk out of the kitchen, and heard the door across the hall open, then shut.

Milinne came back over to the table to collect the empty mug and pitcher. I looked up at her. “Does he drink often?”

“No, for a mercy.” Milinne hesitated.

“Don't hold back,” I said. “I'm hardly going to be offended. I'd rather know what I might be dealing with, if I stay.”

From across the hall, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone sicking up.

I grimaced, and Milinne nodded. “He'll go and take a bath, now, I expect.” She looked at me solemnly. “The last time he drank this way, he slept for nearly a full day.”

“I understand.”

“I would ask...” She paused, then seemed to steel herself. “It isn't my place, but I would ask that you be careful of him, milady.”

“He's very important to me,” I said quietly. “I'll do my best for him.”

Aymeric appeared in the door, leaning on the frame. Milinne turned to him, and he mumbled something to her. “Yes, my lord,” she nodded, and he pushed off from the door and staggered back into the hall.

I got up and followed him. But when we reached the bathing chamber, he shooed me away. “Wait for me. Please.” He opened a different door, and gestured me inside.

I shrugged, and did as he asked.

His bedroom wasn't much different from the guest room I had used – though it was larger, and was done up in shades of blue instead of in green. A fire had been laid in the fireplace, but not yet lit. The biggest difference was the bed – a grand thing, at least twice the size of the guest bed, with posts and a canopy and thick curtains.

I found myself imagining being on that bed, with Aymeric. The desire that had been smoldering for days now flickered restlessly. I shook myself a little.

I shed my vest, laying it on a chair near an elegant writing desk, and took off my boots. I loosened my tunic, and then fidgeted for a moment. I sat on the edge of the bed, then got back up. I went over to the elegant writing desk, and sat on the chair, almost perching on the end of it.

Something on the desk caught my eye, and I reached out. Resting beside the ink bottles was a coiled bit of braided leather, with a few beads worked into the plaits.

 _This is mine_. In fact, it was the hair tie I had lost in the sparring match with Haurchefant and Aymeric. I remembered so little about that night...

_ Maybe I shouldn't do this. Maybe I should just help him get to bed and leave _ .

Before I could start to fret, though, a second door opened. I realized that his bedroom connected directly to the bathing chamber as he came through the door, wrapped in a dark blue velvet robe, his hair damp but still stubbornly curly.

“Feeling better?” I asked, letting the hair tie fall back onto the desk.

“A bit better, thank you.” He moved toward the hallway door, and locked it. I licked my lips and stood up as he walked toward me.

He pulled me close, and I lay my hands flat against his chest as he kissed me. His breath smelled of mint, but the brandy was still there, hiding underneath.

“You've had a lot to drink,” I started to say, when he lifted his head.

“I know what I'm doing.” He kept one hand on my back, and slid his other hand along my ribs and up, until he was cupping my breast. His thumb stroked across my nipple, and I sucked in a breath.

“Not ten days ago,” he murmured, “you begged me to touch you. Do you still need my touch, Berylla?”

My skin prickled, and every time his thumb stroked across my nipple, I shuddered. The flickering flame became a blaze, an inferno.

“Yes,” I whispered, as my hands knotted in his robe.

He bent his head and tasted my mouth, while his hand slid up to my hair. While he tugged my braid loose, I pulled his robe open, sliding my hands across his bare chest.

He buried both hands in my hair as I pressed myself against him, setting my lips to his collarbone, skimming my hands across his flesh. I breathed deep, drinking in the scent of him, a smell I couldn't identify – all I knew was that it made me want him more.

He pulled my head back and claimed my mouth once more, shrugging out of his robe. Then, without warning, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. I giggled a little, curling my arms around his neck.

He lay me down on top of the coverlet, and I tugged my tunic up, wiggling, until I had pulled it off. He plucked it from my hands and tossed it over his shoulder.

I started to fumble with the ties of my pants, but as he got onto the bed, he caught my wrists and guided them upward until my arms were over my head. I arched my back, begging him without words.

Gently he kissed my nipple, and I couldn't hold back a cry of need.

He trailed his hand down my arms and along my ribs. As he teased my nipple, he reached down and swiftly untied my pants. I wanted to touch him, but his other hand held my wrists still, and I tossed my head, whimpering. “Please...” _It's been so long_...

He lifted his head from my breast and kissed me, a hard, hungry kiss. I strained against him, moaning.

He released my wrists, and moved down the bed, putting both of his hands to use in stroking and kneading my flesh, even as his mouth tasted of me. I groaned as my hands roamed, stroking his shoulders and tangling in his hair. I couldn't be still.

Then he was kissing my belly, moving still farther down. My hands fluttered, trying to touch as much of him as I could reach. When I felt his hands on the waist of my pants, I lifted my head.

With one yank he pulled the pants down to my knees, and with a second yank, he had thrown them off to the side. Before I could sit up or even gasp, he had knelt between my legs, guiding my heels over his shoulders. My elbows dug into the bed, and my head fell back, as I felt his lips and fingers exploring me.

“Gods! Aymeric!”

He shifted a little, and trailed a few kisses along my belly. “Hm?” His smile was almost dreamy, his eyes dancing, as his fingers continued the wonderful torment.

I couldn't manage another coherent word, my hands knotting in the coverlet as he slid his fingers in and out, a slow rhythm that drove me mad. I writhed, panting for breath, and little noises seemed to form in my throat without my conscious control. My body began to quiver all over, and he slipped his head back down, tasting me, flicking his tongue across the most sensitive spots.

I stiffened suddenly, my sight fading, quaking and moaning, completely lost in the blaze of the fastest orgasm I'd ever had.

I was still trembling as I felt him moving, kissing his way up my body again. Each soft kiss drew another moan out of me, and I shuddered as his delicate touches sparked aftershocks, again and again.

“Beautiful Berylla,” he whispered in my ear. I wrapped my legs around his hips, and he smiled. His hands cupped my shoulders as he set himself against me. “So very sweet...”

I cried out, my fingers digging into his back, as he entered me at last. “Aymeric!”

He began to move against me, with much the same rhythm as he had used with his fingers. My head tossed, and I rocked against him, begging him for more.

He took his time, kissing me and stroking me with his hands, never stopping the maddening rhythm of his hips against mine. The pleasure built inside of me, robbing me of words and thoughts.

As my moans and whimpers grew more frantic, he deepened his strokes, sliding one hand down to cup my buttocks, dropping his head. My nails scored his shoulders as I urged him on.

I felt him shudder, and wrapped my legs around him tighter. His groan vibrated into my shoulder, and as he began to come, I shrieked with my own release.

He shifted off of me, falling onto his side. I let my arms fall to rest on the pillow above my head, and just lay, boneless and panting for breath. Slow tears ran down into my hair.

Aymeric leaned up on his elbow, and reached out to stroke my cheek. He hesitated, seeing me crying. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“No.” I turned toward him, bringing my arms down. My hands shook as I rested them against his chest. “Just...hold me? Please?”

He put his arms around me and I leaned my forehead against him. “Talk to me, Berylla,” he begged. “Please, tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” I hiccuped. “Just such a... _relief_. It's been too long for me.”

“Three weeks?”

“Longer than that. A lot longer than that.” I burrowed against him, shivering. “I needed this so very much.”

“But I thought you and...”

“What, he didn't tell you _that_?” I hiccuped again. “Haurchefant didn't lay a finger on me after his father took us all in.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” He gathered me closer, kissing my forehead. “No wonder you've been...”

“On edge?” I sighed. “Not the only reason, but yes.”

“Why did I wait so long?” He kissed me again. “I'm sorry.”

For a while, he just held me, stroking my back a little.

“Aren't you cold?” I asked him, as I began to feel chilled.

“We Ishgardians are a hardy lot,” he chuckled. “Shall we sleep, my lady?”

“Hm, being under the covers sounds nice.”

Once we were beneath the thick feather-bed, though, Aymeric's hands wandered, and I let mine do the same.

I skimmed my fingers over the flesh of his belly. The scar left behind after the attempted gut stab was still red and angry looking, but it was fully healed. Fainter were the scars on his arm, where he had been tortured by the Heavens' Ward. I pressed my lips to the ragged lines.

He combed his fingers through my hair, smoothing it away from my face as I lay back on the pillow. His fingers traced the little mark across my eyebrow, and the nick along my jaw where I'd not quite dodged a dagger during the grand melee.

“Do you know,” he murmured, kissing my jaw, “when I saw you standing in that circle of flames, triumphant over the General...”

“Hm?”

He laughed low in his throat. “I've never wanted anyone quite that badly, as I wanted you in that moment.”

I blushed. “What, in the middle of a battlefield? Probably filthy with sweat, blood, and soot? I must have looked horrendous.”

“You were magnificent.”

“You were pretty terrific yourself,” I answered.

He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I wish I could. I'm expected back at Fortemps manor before too long.”

“The Count...”

“I'm not sure the Count would give two hoots about where I am. But Alphinaud...”

“And why should the boy care about your comings and goings?”

“He...” I hesitated. “The simple version is, he's worrying about me again. Some rumors got around to him, and he was...concerned.”

“Ah.”

I was glad Aymeric didn't ask which rumors. _That_ was a bucket of tripe I did not want to get into.

“You told me,” I said quietly, “that you wanted to keep...our relationship...as discreet as possible.”

“I don't _want_ to, but I must.”

“Then let's not start off by upsetting my shield-brother, okay?”

He shut his eyes for a moment, and then sighed.

“I concede the point, though it rather ruins my plans for the evening.”

“There will be other evenings. I promise.”

He slid his hand down my shoulder, then my back, until he cupped my buttocks. “Before you go...”

He pressed against me, and I felt his excitement rising. My eyes widened, and he smiled before he claimed my mouth.


	44. Hope

I didn't get back to the manor until after supper. I stopped in the kitchen, and begged some food there. Once I had eaten, I wandered off to my room, feeling better than I had in weeks. _I'm going to sleep like a rock tonight_.

I reached the hallway where the bedrooms were, and turned the corner.

Alphinaud was standing near his own door, leaning up against the wall. From the way he straightened, it was plain he had been waiting for me.

I walked to my door, and smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

His cornflower blue eyes searched my face for a moment.

“Do you need something?” I asked.

He lowered his head, and he seemed to fold in on himself a little. I recognized the strangely wary posture he'd fallen into when he first saw Krile. “I was merely making sure that you returned. Good night, Berylla.”

He turned and went into his room, closing the door gently.

I stared after him, but then I shrugged.

_If he thinks he knows something, and then doesn't ask, I'm not going to force feed him information. And if he wants to pout and be jealous, at least he isn't doing it where I have to see him. Maybe I should have stayed with Aymeric after all, and to hell with any consequences._

Morning came, and Alphinaud seemed completely fine – no comments over breakfast, or any other signs of a sour mood. I spent an hour after breakfast in the bathing chamber; a long hot soak in the quiet seemed like a piece of pure luxury. By the time I was done and dressed in clean clothes, Alphinaud tapped on my door, ready to meet with our friends.

As we walked to the Forgotten Knight, he started to talk.

“My mind returns again and again to the moment when Nidhogg appeared before the crowd in the guise of Estinien. It was a sight to chill the soul─but one which gave me reason to hope that our friend might not be beyond salvation. When you described his transformation at Azys Lla, I feared him lost forever, but the mere fact that some semblance of his former self endures must surely count for something. Alas, I have no evidence to support this impression...” He shook his head. “This sort of thing is not at all what I focused on when studying.”

I shrugged. “You don't do badly. Should I assume this is part of why you think we can save him?”

“Yes. It is why I turned to Y'Shtola and Krile for a more empirical appraisal.”

“Right. I probably won't understand most of what you three discuss, but I'll try to keep up.”

“You are hardly an imbecile, Berylla. I don't understand why you pretend as if you are some unlettered barbarian.”

“It's easier. And more fun, because then people underestimate me, and I get to shock them on occasion.”

“Your idea of word play is certainly shocking.”

I laughed. “The level of disgust you just put into one word is the reason I go for the bad jokes.”

Y'Shtola and Krile waited at a table. Tataru waved to us from near the bar.

Alphinaud went straight to the table, but I joined Tataru.

“I've ordered up some food for us all,” she told me with a big smile. Gibrillont gave me a friendly nod, his tawny eyes gleaming. The bar-keep had done _very_ well from Tataru's presence – in just these two months, the Knight had doubled its usual number of patrons, and I'd heard that the man had been able to outright purchase the entire building. _One of our very first decisions on getting here – and one of the few such that has had nothing but_ _ **good**_ _consequences_.

“Do you need a hand with those?” I asked her, seeing the tray of five mugs.

“Pish,” Tataru snorted. “I've carried two of these trays at once before. I've got it!”

I let her have her way, but I did help her set the mugs out. Krile, Alphinaud, and Y'Shtola were already deep in discussion, and as I'd expected, I didn't understand at least half the technical terms they were flinging about. But I sat down, and listened.

“It seemed to me that the eyes are fused to his armor,” Alphinaud was saying. He looked over at me. “You were a great deal closer than the rest of us. Would you agree?”

I nodded, remembering too how clouds of aether had seemed to roil all around him, like some kind of malevolent steam.

“His aether has been all but smothered beneath the power of the wyrm.” Y'Shtola shook her head.

“Then he is truly lost to us?”

Krile set down her mug, glaring across the table at him. “What was I just saying about jumping to conclusions?” she snapped. “Y'Shtola clearly stated _all but smothered_.”

A pair of girls came up to the table, bearing plates and bowls. For a few minutes, no one spoke – Krile and Alphinaud both being of the opinion that one did not talk with one's mouth full. Given the way that the Lalafellin scholar attacked her meal, I suspected her energy was still not recovered from whatever exertions she had undertaken yesterday.

But, as soon as she had eaten the last of her sweet, she wiped her mouth, and began again. “When we compared notes, we discovered that my impression matched Y'Shtola's. Though Nidhogg's presence filled my mind's eye, beneath that seething aura, I could sense the merest hint of something else. In the traces left behind, that tiny hint was also present – faint, difficult to perceive, but definitely there.” She sat back a little in her chair. “I am nearly certain that what I sensed was in fact the trace of a different will, submerged in the sea of Nidhogg's rage.”

Alphinaud stopped picking at his food and looked up. “You mean...”

“It is like that Estinien's spirit yet lingers,” Y'Shtola nodded.

Alphinaud looked like he wanted to leap up from the table and go find the stricken dragoon at that instant. But when he spoke, he managed to keep his voice mostly calm. “Can we not wrest him from Nidhogg's grasp, then? Tear the eyes from the armor?”

“None have ever attempted such a feat. We cannot know if such will separate wyrm's soul from man's.”

Alphinaud's hand, resting on the table, curled into a fist. “Should it offer even the faintest hope of success, then by the gods I shall be the first to try.”

“Alphinaud.” Krile's voice held a hint of warning, and her brow was creased with worry.

Alphinaud leveled a glare at her that would have made most folk flinch, but the little Lalafellin simply looked at him, sympathy and worry both in her eyes. Her voice was soft. “By all means, hold fast to your hope. But be mindful of the dangers.”

“The danger that by even touching the eyes, the one attempting to rescue Estinien might instead be consumed?” I asked.

Alphinaud stared at me in dismay.

“Exactly,” Krile nodded. “And we have no way of knowing if your friend's soul would survive so violent a separation.”

I thought back to what Aymeric had told me. _Estinien would rather die than continue to be enslaved to the wyrm_. I glanced at Alphinaud. _Maybe I better not tell Alphinaud that_.

“Should the opportunity present itself,” Alphinaud said, his voice low, and taut with determination, “I will tear those foul orbs from Estinien's armor and trust in the resilience of his soul – even at the risk of my own!”

I sat up straight, not liking the sound of that _at all_. Krile opened her mouth to say something.

“Ah! I've found you at last!”

I turned to see Honoroit trotting up to me, his young face a picture of urgency. “A messenger of the Temple Knights came to the manor. The lord commander humbly requests the company of the Warrior of Light and Master Alphinaud.”

I glanced at Alphinaud, to see him looking at me. I tilted my head, a wordless question: _Did you forget to tell the Count where we were going?_

He gave me the barest nod in answer, and I bit my tongue to keep from commenting.

The two of us stood up. Alphinaud's voice was still tight as he spoke. “Thank you, Y'Shtola, Krile. Your words have given me hope where there was none.”

He turned towards the stairs, and said to me over his shoulder, “Ser Aymeric awaits. Come, then.”

Without waiting for me to answer, he walked away.

Krile watched him go, then met my eyes, her expression somber. “He is allowing his feelings for this dragoon to cloud his thoughts. I worry he may do something rash. Keep an eye on him, would you?”

“Oh, I will. I will most _definitely_ keep an eye on him.”

We strode into Aymeric's office to find him already standing in front of his desk, Lucia in her customary place behind and to his left. His eyes sought mine, and I gave him a brief smile before sliding my gaze away. I'm pretty sure I'd start blushing in three seconds if I wasn't careful.

I noticed that Lucia looked...less than happy. Her green eyes were murky with worry, and her usual “parade rest” posture was stiff.

Alphinaud's first words were laced with hope. “You have had word of Nidhogg?”

Aymeric shook his head. “Alas, no. Our scouts range far and wide, but they have as yet found no trace of the great wyrm.”

“A pity.” Alphinaud closed his eyes for a moment.

“Fear not, Alphinaud – we shall see the wyrm again soon enough. His words at Falcon's Nest attest to that.” Aymeric's voice was hard. “In fact, he is like to come sooner than we would wish.”

“I assume Ishgard's defenses are being bolstered as we speak?”

Aymeric nodded. “I mean to call up every able-bodied warrior at our disposal, from the knights of the four houses to the men and women of the watch.” He bent his gaze on me. “But I did not summon you to discuss strategy.”

I cocked my head at him, and waited. There was something in his expression that said he had a plan – a plan even he wasn't sure about.

“I will speak plain. Now that Nidhogg is possessed of both of his eyes, no mortal force we can muster will repel him. We must needs recruit an ally of equal strength.”

Alphinaud bent his head in thought for only a moment. I felt my eyes widening even as he arrived at the same conclusion I did.

“You speak of Hraesvelgr?!”

“I do. To whom else could we turn?”

 _But he's likely to not talk to us at all...he just wanted us to leave him alone_.

“That he is Nidhogg's equal I do not deny. Nor can I name another. But convincing the reclusive creature to do battle with his own brood-brother will be...” He shook his head. “How shall I put this?”

“Fucking impossible?” I muttered.

Aymeric bowed his head. “It will be no small undertaking, yes. Estinien's report was most particular about Hraesvelgr, and his unwillingness to involve himself in the affairs of men.” I saw a flash of the same pain he'd shown me yesterday. _He doesn't want to kill Estinien, any more than Alphinaud does_. My lips pressed together. _Well, damn it, neither do I_.

“Much has changed since your visit to Sohm Al,” Aymeric said quietly. “If there is even a chance that the dragon may be swayed, I must plead our case. Whatever price the dragon asks of me, I shall pay it – such was my oath to defend the people of Ishgard.”

My blood ran cold.

“Come what may, my friends, the battle with Nidhogg will mark the end of my tenure as the acting head of church and state.” He lifted his head and met our gazes. “Will you help me discharge this final duty?”

Alphinaud looked over at me. His brow was knit with that same look of determination he'd worn in the tavern. I regarded him, keeping my best “Stoic Hero” expression in place to hide the shivering terror that clawed at my guts. _Both of them!_ _ **Both**_ _of them willing to die! Must I lose_ _ **every**_ _friend I cherish??_

I wanted to scream at them both, to rail at them for fools. But I knew that I couldn't demand that they stay away from danger – any more than I would allow them to demand the same of me. The gasping fear collapsed under a sudden, crushing, cold weight in my heart. _Whatever it takes_.

I nodded once. “Of course we'll go.”

Alphinaud turned to Aymeric. “Come, then – we will depart at your leisure.”

“Thank you.” Aymeric's voice was soft. “Both of you.”

Then, he turned to face Lucia. “The city is yours, First Commander.”

I bit my lip as she turned, seeing the glimmer of tears in her eyes. But her voice was steady, if soft, as she saluted. “My lord. We shall pray for your swift return.”


	45. Speed Run

It was twilight when we reached Anyx Trine, and ascended to the second level to speak with Vidofnir.

“Ah, 'tis the warrior of warriors and her companions. What bringeth you to mine abode?”

I smiled to hear the jaunty tone of Vidofnir's voice, and waved to her a little.

More formal, Alphinaud bowed before speaking. “Pray forgive us for disturbing your recuperation, Vidofnir. I hope your wound does not pain you overmuch.”

She snorted a little. “Didst thou imagine me close to death? The thrust was deep, but not mortal. I will heal in time.”

“Full glad am I to hear it,” Aymeric said. “You were the guest of honor at our conference, and we failed in our duty of protection. On behalf of Ishgard, I apologize unreservedly.”

Vidofnir's sides trembled. “I am a dragon full-grown, and thou thought to protect me, mortal? I was tempered by the fires of battle ere thy great-grandsire learned to crawl.” The laughter in her voice faded. “Thy words do remind me of a knight whom I called friend some thousand years past. He swore to defend me from harm and hardship...”

“Would that we could return to that era of peace, when man and dragon knew such comradeship.”

“Would that our every effort to do so were not undone by ancient rancor,” Alphinaud added with a sigh.

Vidofnir's sigh matched his. “For a truth, there can be no peace while Nidhogg's shade yet lingereth.”

Alphinaud nodded. “That much is plain – yet we lack the strength to banish him. Thus do we make for Sohm Al, to beseech the aid of your sire once more.”

Vidofnir huffed, her breath tossing Alphinaud's hair. “Folly. Thou know'st as well as I how he will answer.”

Aymeric nodded. “Hraesvelgr may not have changed his heart. But if it is folly to hope, I am content to die a fool.”

Vidofnir extended her muzzle toward him, just short of touching. Her tone was gentle. “As hath ever been the way with thy kind. Go then, but be warned: the shade's presence hath driven its minions to frenzy.”

“Thank you, Vidofnir. We shall disturb your rest no longer.” Alphinaud bowed again, and the three of us left.

“Onward and upward,” Alphinaud sighed as we stepped out onto the stones of the courtyard.

“Flying would be the fastest way,” I said. “It won't be _pleasant_ , but I think all three of us can squeeze into the manacutter.”

Alphinaud's eyes narrowed. “That does not sound ideal at all.”

“It's not. It's like to burn out the engine, or something. But even if the damn thing breaks down half way, it's still faster than slogging our way through all those damn dragons.”

“Some of whom can fly,” countered Alphinaud.

“Those few, I can outrun.” I set my hands on my hips. “Or I can take just Aymeric and you can meet us at the top. You've attuned to the aetheryte there.”

He pressed his lips together.

I didn't wait for him to think about it further, instead activating the manacutter. It hovered, gleaming white in the rising moonlight, and I gestured to Aymeric. “You first, my lord.”

Alphinaud watched as the lord commander maneuvered himself aboard the slim ship, and shook his head. “I will wait, but if you do break down half way, I insist that you contact me via link pearl.”

“I will.” I got onto the manacutter, adjusting carefully. It was a tight squeeze. _All right, Alphinaud wouldn't have fit after all._

I lifted off, the engine growling at the load, and nodded once to Alphinaud. “See you upstairs.”

Aymeric had his arms around me. The low seat, never intended to hold two people, wasn't going to do a damn thing to keep him in place if we encountered too much turbulence. I turned my head slightly as we passed through the final arch that opened onto the spiraling path to the summit. “Hang on tight with your legs, too. It's going to be fast, and steep.”

I felt him nod, and leaned in a little, gunning the throttle.

The manacutter roared, leaping forward like a shark lunging at prey.

Immediately, shrieks of outrage echoed from below us, as the smaller dragons leaped and clawed for us. Some of them could fly, but they had no chance of catching us. I could see the winds that helped contain and mark the “path” here – debris made paths and patterns as it was tossed around on the currents. I made sure to keep away from those chaotic cross-currents. They'd rip the manacutter apart in moments and send the both of us plummeting to our deaths.

But within that narrow tunnel of calmer air, I kept the nose of the manacutter turned up and kept the throttle open. Screeches resounded below, and I could see some of the larger flighted dragons turning on their wing tips to see what the commotion was. _They'll see us soon. Just gotta make sure they don't catch us!_

Indicators on the instrument panel started flashing. I clenched my teeth and kept going.

“Ware!” Aymeric shouted in my ear, and I yanked the control bar hard, slewing us to port.

A green wing passed right through where we would have been, and a roar of frustration veered away from us as the dragon tried to turn on its wingtip and was instead tossed around by the cross-current winds.

I cursed and yawed to starboard, trying to correct our flight path before we too were too close to the edge. Aymeric's arms clamped around my ribs.

A red dragon and a blue one swooped upwards in front of us, mouths gaping. I dropped, trading height for speed, and flames spat over our heads, singeing the manacutter a little.

I could see the top. One more turn and we would be in a safe enough spot that I could go into level flight.

I flicked the little switch, marked with a big orange circle around it, that Wedge had solemnly told me to only use in an emergency.

The manacutter rattled violently, and then fire exploded from its aft end.

I was shoved back into Aymeric so hard I lost all my breath for a moment, and only my death grip on the control bar kept the two of us in the seat. I clamped my legs tight to the machine, and hung on for dear life. We were going so fast that I could barely control the heading of the manacutter. My eyes streamed with tears, and I could hear Aymeric whooping in exultation.

And then we were out, onto the flatter, final part of the tunnels, racing through too fast for the dragons below to be more than screeching blurs in my vision. I shouted at the top of my lungs as we shot out into the open air, out over the wheeling rocks, into the Mists.

The engine began to scream. I yanked on the control bar, and tried to let off the throttle. The brakes weren't responding. “Shit!”

The manacutter turned, and I aimed us back towards the colorful collection of weird shapes that marked the moogle village. The fire coming from the back of the manacutter sputtered and died, and our speed immediately decreased, but I still didn't have any brakes.

I flicked switches, trying again to force the throttle down. Something in the engine was pinging and rattling, and I smelled smoke. The roar of the throttle coughed. Sputtered. The whole ship shook, like a dog shedding water.

“We're going to crash!” I yelled to Aymeric.

I aimed for the top of the village, where we at least stood a chance of skidding to a stop instead of smashing against solid rock. The moogles scattered in all directions. Screams of panic echoed off the rocks and whimsical sculptures.

The engine gave one more cough, and died. I aimed the nose of the manacutter downward.

We were thrown forward as the nose hit, carving a huge furrow in the dirt. Aymeric was flung away, and I kicked at the brakes with both feet. I saw the big, white “arch rock” and tried to avoid it, but even the control rod had given up. I tasted blood in my mouth as the rock filled my vision.

I came to, lying sprawled in the grass. I groaned.

“ _Berylla!_ ”

Aymeric was on his knees beside me.

“Berylla – _gods_ – are you all right?”

“Ugh,” I grunted.

I heard moogles yelling, and running footsteps.

Alphinaud didn't shout, but once he had reached me, he too was on his knees.

“Gods-be-damned stupid, stubborn...” he was muttering.

“Good to see you too.”

“Shut up and be still.”

I let him concentrate. I heard him muttering, and felt his hands moving across me.

“Nothing broken, for a wonder. What in the seven hells _happened_?”

“No brakes,” I said, and coughed. I turned more on my side, and spat blood into the dirt.

“Give me one of those,” Aymeric said, and I felt a cloth pressed to my head.

“You could have _died_ ,” Alphinaud's voice was sharp-edged.

“Nah.” My smile felt twisted. “Too stupid and too stubborn to go out from a bad landing.”

Aymeric removed the cloth on my head, and I heard Alphinaud begin to chant softly.

He held his hands over me, and I felt the cool tingle of his magic wrapping around me and soaking into my battered flesh. A faint hint of sweetness lingered at the back of my throat.

“You're getting stronger at that, Alphinaud.”

“I have to keep up with _you_ ,” he retorted. “Since you keep finding new and outrageous ways to hurt yourself.”

I turned to lay flat on my back. I stretched slowly, one limb at a time. Then I opened my eyes, to see Aymeric looking down at me. I smiled a little. “Hi. You okay?”

He shook his head, and didn't answer.

Aymeric reached out, and I took his hand and let him haul me into a sitting position. I wheezed a little, and spat another glob of blood out into the dirt. “Ugh.”

“It would have been safer to just fight your way here.” Alphinaud was still upset.

“Safer, maybe. Not faster. Thought we were in a hurry.” I levered myself to my feet, and stretched once more, feeling the residual effects of Alphinaud's healing spell soothing the bruises. _I'm going to look like a quilt later, I expect. And probably need to sleep for a week_. “I'm capable of going on,” I began.

“Oh, no you bloody don't.” Alphinaud scowled. “You're staying put for at least another hour. You have a head injury and I'm not taking chances.”

I sighed. “If you insist.”

He stomped away, and I turned, casting my eyes over the landscape of the “moogle garden” that I'd just ruined. Already, highly agitated moogles were fluttering around it, glaring at me from time to time. Statues had been knocked over, a couple were broken, and there was of course the gigantic furrow marring their entire lawn. I couldn't really blame them for being mad at me.

I saw the manacutter – or rather, the corpse of it – and winced a little. “Wedge is going to kill me for destroying it,” I said to myself.

“I will gladly pay him enough for _three_ such vessels,” Aymeric said. “His work saved your life, I expect.”

“How do you figure?” I asked, scratching at my hair a little, scraping flecks of blood away from my scalp. “The brakes went out.”

“If you'd been able to stop the way you seemed to be trying to, we would have been flung off the machine while still in the open air,” he pointed out.

I blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that might've been...bad. Huh.” I looked at him. “You didn't answer me. Are you hurt?”

“Nothing but a bruise or two.”

“Glad to hear that.” I flexed my jaw, and rubbed at my ears gingerly, until they popped. I sighed in relief. “Shall we go downstairs?”

“Not yet.” He put his arms around me, and pressed his temple against mine – on the side that wasn't bloodied. He didn't speak, just held me like that for a few moments, and I returned the embrace gently.

“Do you make a habit of such recklessness?” he whispered.

“Believe it or not, no,” I answered, with a shaky laugh. “But I'm okay. I really am. I knew there was a risk of something like that happening.”

“Something like crashing and having to be dragged from the wreckage?”

I winced. “Well, maybe not that exactly. I did expect the engine to go out.”

He let me go. “Come. Let us rejoin Alphinaud.”

When we reached the bottom of the earthen ramp, the big, fat moogle chief was bobbing up and down. I blinked to see him out of his flowery chair, and then saw Alphinaud's expression. _Oh. Right. Time to make apologies._

So I scraped together an apology speech. My words barely mollified the chief, but after Alphinaud added some more soothing words, the big moogle's fur finally flattened down a little. He flopped back down onto his overgrown dandelion, and heaved a huge sigh. “You _can't_ stay the night, kupo,” he told us, and then ostentatiously ignored our presence.

“Shall we get going, then?” I asked Alphinaud. He frowned at me, and I shrugged. “It's not like we couldn't use the road.”

“That's not the point. Your head injury is my concern.”

“The day I can't ride my damn bird along a plain road, I will hang up my axe and fucking retire,” I snapped. “We don't have time for this argument.”

Aymeric spoke up. “We will _make_ time for you recovery. We cannot afford to risk you, Berylla, not when we are certain to need your skills.”

I crossed my arms and frowned at him, too. He returned my glare with the same expression he'd used that day that I had been on his couch. For a moment, I considered whistling up Midnight and just mounting up no matter what they both wanted.

The wind gusted hard, driving dust into my eyes, and thunder boomed.

We all looked up, and I swore as black clouds seemed to sweep in like a gigantic cloak. Lightning struck one of the smaller chunks of flying rock, obliterating it, and the accompanying thunder rattled my teeth. Behind us, I could hear the moogles yelping and diving for cover.

“Oh for fuck's sake.” I threw my hands up and sighed. “Fine.”


	46. Painted Skies

Alphinaud tended the fire, Aymeric worked on setting up a place to lay down, and I stood at the mouth of the little cave, leaning against the rock, glowering out at the rain. Cloudbursts like this weren't uncommon in the Mists – but nonetheless I felt personally attacked by the storm. _Nidhogg could be storming the gates of Ishgard in hours, but of course it's raining, and Alphinaud's being a pain in the ass about a bump to my head._

But even as I groused to myself, I knew he had a point. My head did ache, horribly. I couldn't remember clearly when Aymeric had no longer been behind me on the manacutter, couldn't recall if it had been him who had whooped in exhilaration and surprise when the rocket had fired, or if that had been me.

I'd been hit in the head plenty; I knew the signs to look for as well as Alphinaud did. I _wasn't_ fine. I would be – but even for me, recovery required time and actual rest.

_But damned if I'm going to admit it gracefully._

Aymeric touched my shoulder. As I looked over at him, I saw Alphinaud starting to get out a stew pot, and my eyes narrowed.

“No. No, no, no.” I strode over to the fire. “ _Hell_ no. Move over.”

“What?” Alphinaud looked up at me. “I can make tea.”

“Not in a _stew pot!_ ”

“You need to lay down.”

“And I will. Once I know you aren't going to poison all three of us.”

“Oh!” Alphinaud's ears went red at the tips. “It was _one time_ , Berylla!”

“One time too many.” I knelt down, and took the pot out of his hands. “Get me my pack. You can make the tea. _I'm_ making the food.”

Aymeric came to crouch beside me. “You really ought to lay down.”

I looked over at him. “Do _you_ know camp cooking?”

For the first time since I'd met him, he looked a little uncertain. “Well...”

“Yeah, no, I'm cooking. Stew doesn't take that long to throw together.”

Alphinaud set my pack down beside me, and I dug out the tea kettle and handed it to him. He sniffed, still annoyed with me, but took it without further comment.

I set up the stew pot. Not for the first time – or even the hundredth time! - I was glad I'd invested the coin the various contraptions for field cookery that I could carry with me easily. I didn't understand just how the magic worked, but I didn't care. Being able to literally carry a kitchen in my pack had been worth more than mere money.

As I cut up vegetables and meat and measured out spices, Alphinaud set the tea kettle up on the other side of the fire, as well as three mugs. I noticed, as I hung the now-full pot over the fire, that he'd gotten out the green pouch of tea from my things – the one tea I had that was also a painkiller.

I cleaned my things and put it all away, and then fished around in the bag one more time until I came up with two of the fire shards that I kept with the cooking gear. I broke them against the side of the stew pot, and sat back with a satisfied sigh as the stew began to bubble nicely.

“You're very good,” Aymeric commented.

I smiled. “I _like_ eating. So I needed to learn how to cook if I wanted to keep eating like I can in the taverns.”

Alphinaud looked across the fire at me. “Where did you learn to cook, anyway? Not from your parents.”

I blinked at him for a moment, not expecting him to bring up something like _that_. “The man that runs the _Bismarck_ in Limsa is a very good teacher. He was happy to get me started.”

“What, you worked in their kitchen?”

“Once or twice. Remember,” I said, “I was getting lessons in cooking out in the field, more than about, you know...plating and stuff.” I grinned a little. “Though I still have a couple stories to tell from those occasions.”

“Come,” Aymeric said, getting up. “You can lay down now.”

I grumbled a little, but I got up and followed him over to the bedding he had set up. There was far more space than I needed, but I didn't comment. I sat down, stretching my legs out in front of me.

Alphinaud made up the tea, and brought the mugs over. Aymeric took his, and after one sip, looked at Alphinaud with a raised eyebrow.

“If you aren't in pain now,” Alphinaud said, “you will be.”

Aymeric snorted a little, but didn't argue.

I drank my own mug of tea as fast as I could manage it without burning myself. Alphinaud took my mug from me, and I lay down on my side.

Aymeric moved out of my line of sight, and I heard soft sounds – cloth whispering, and metal bits clicking against something. Alphinaud went back to the fire with his mug and mine, and came back with a cloth. “Lay on your back,” he told me. “That needs cleaning off still.” He gestured with the cloth toward my head.

I sighed and rolled over. He knelt and began to ease the cloth over my forehead and my hair. It was warm, damp, and soothing in a way, even when the dried blood tried to cling to my hair.

I looked up at him, watching his face as he concentrated.”Still mad at me?” I asked.

“I was never angry with you.”

“You know...I keep telling you not to worry so much...”

“I know you do.” He wrung the cloth out, and picked up my hand, turning my arm and cleaning away blood on my elbow. “I can't help it.” He finished with my arm, and regarded me for a long moment. I looked away. I didn't want to see the sadness in those cornflower blue eyes.

He got up, and went back to the fire.

I rubbed my eyes a little. A shiver went through me, and I sat up, wrapping my arms around myself.

Aymeric came back, and I saw that he'd taken off his coat and gloves, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Are you cold?” he asked, seeing me.

I started to reach for him, and pulled my hand back. “A little.”

He pulled a blanket up from the back part of the bedding he'd arranged, and handed it to me. Then he walked over to the fire, where Alphinaud was stirring the pot of stew.

I watched the two of them, tugging the blanket tight around my shoulders. My teeth chattered, but I clenched my jaw against it, waiting out the shivers, knowing it was nothing more than the lingering effects of shock. Aymeric bent his head to say something to Alphinaud.

_Dark hair against light. A sigh of pleasure, and a pale hand sliding across my skin as another, tanned hand reached for me._

I blinked rapidly. _Where the hell did_ _ **that**_ _come from? Shame on you, Berylla_.

I forced my mind away from that astonishing – and much too vivid – mental image. By the time I was able to clear my head, they were coming back towards me.

Aymeric sat down to my right, putting his back up against the cave wall and stretching his legs out in front of him. I felt his hands gently pulling me toward him, guiding me until I was leaning back, my head resting on his chest. Alphinaud picked up the second blanket and sat down to my left, draping the blanket over himself as well as me. I looked over at him as he scooted close. “You're not the only one who's cold,” he said. Though I didn't really believe the too-casual tone of his voice, I didn't object. I wanted the comfort too much to refuse.

Aymeric's arm supported my back, and I snuggled into him, seeking the warmth of him. On my other side, Alphinaud rested his head against my arm. I shifted enough to move my right hand, and stroked Alphinaud's hair. My fingers brushed against his cheek just a little, and his skin was chilled.

Outside the cave, the sky was churning, as the squall tangled up on itself. Rain fell in skeins, first at one angle, then another. Lightning flashed frequently, and the thunder was a low, continuous rumble. The winds of the area were anything but natural, and the squall seemed to be trapped in place by invisible hands that rolled it back and forth over the island. The weird fish of the sky-sea dived in and out of the storm clouds, frolicking.

“This is nice,” Alphinaud murmured. “Somehow, I never thought sitting in a cave, waiting out a rainstorm, would be pleasant.”

“It's the company,” I joked. “We're all just that amazing, that even sitting on our butts is a good time for all concerned.”

Alphinaud's snort made me smile. “You're ridiculous, Berylla.”

“I do my best.”

Aymeric laughed, a quiet laugh that I felt as much as heard. I wished I could wrap my arms around him and _really_ snuggle.

“This has been a most memorable journey,” he said. “Even if nothing comes of our effort, I shall not soon forget traveling with the two of you.”

“It's not usually quite so memorable,” I admitted. “Back when all we had to worry about was heretics in the highlands...honestly a lot of those journeys were downright boring.”

“And cold,” Alphinaud added.

I laughed. “At least you're dressed for the weather these days.”

“Even I felt the ice in the winds here,” Aymeric said, his tone mild. “Truly, this is a place unlike any I have ever visited.”

“It can be...” I trailed off, thinking about the last time I had made a camp in the Mists.

“Beautiful.” Alphinaud's voice was soft. “When it's clear at night, it seems the stars are close enough to touch.”

I sighed. I wished that Ysayle and Estinien could be with us. I was afraid to even speak their names. Not now. I didn't want to rupture the quiet peace that had settled over us all.

“The two of you must have seen almost every beautiful place in Eorzea,” Aymeric said, his words like a gift. I latched onto them with relief.

“I don't know,” I answered. “I've seen a lot of incredible things, but I'm certain I haven't seen all of them yet.”

“I still say,” Alphinaud said, “the best was that party at Bronze Lake after you had defeated Titan. The hot springs are always lovely but the residents out-did themselves for us Scions.”

“You just liked all those dancers they brought in,” I teased, and laughed.

“They were very talented!” he sputtered.

“Not half so talented as the musicians at the solstice festival in Gridania,” I sighed.

“I didn't attend that,” Alphinaud shrugged a little.

“Your loss. It was gorgeous.”

“What, better than the Vault's choir?” Aymeric asked.

I turned my head a little, to see his sly smile. “Yes, actually,” I answered him.

“Truly? Perhaps I should attend next time.”

We fell silent for a few moments as a particularly violent round of lightning and thunder battered the island.

“Of all the places we've been,” Alphinaud mused, “I cannot help but think there has yet to be even one that would please me as a residence.”

“How do you mean?” Aymeric asked him.

“Well...a place that I would wish to return to again and again, I suppose. Not just a pleasant place to rest on occasion, but a place where I could...fit. Be accepted.”

“A home,” I said, very quietly. “But what about Sharlayan? What about your family?”

“My father still resides in the city, yes,” Alphinaud answered. “But...after my grandfather left, I never truly felt at home there.”

“Did you come here hoping to find a home, then?” Aymeric asked.

I swallowed hard, knowing the true answer to why the twins had come to these lands. They had been searching for their grandfather's memory, for their grandfather's truth. Alphinaud's public stance had always been that he wanted to save Eorzea, that he wanted to continue the work his grandfather had begun. He had never spoken of anything more personal than that.

“I didn't come here for that, no.” He sat up, shifting himself around until his back was against the cave wall. “In my father's house, I was always paired with my sister. We were the family's pride. The geniuses, the prodigies. One child in two bodies, honestly.” He shook his head. “My father struggled to tell us apart, even the day we left. He barely knew us by then. He only remembered the little children he had sent away to school.”

I bit my lip. Alphinaud glanced at me, and shrugged a little. “A tiny tragedy at best,” he sighed. “At least I know my father loved us, as best he could. Our grandfather was the one who understood us...but...”

“He was why you came here,” I finished. My throat tightened, and the stench of machine oil wafted through my memory. “And you lost him.”

“Aye.” Then he leaned into me. “I shouldn't whine. At least I _had_ a childhood, and a happy one at that.”

“I feel I've missed something,” Aymeric said, and I turned a little to look at him.

“Well...” I sighed a little, and explained – again – the odd facets of my existence as Hydaelyn's servant. When I finished, he regarded me for a long moment.

“You've never...? In all these lives, you've only ever been...?”

I shrugged. “I'm not made for peace.” I leaned against him, and put one arm around Alphinaud. “That's why I never take my friends for granted.”

The stew finished cooking, and we sat around the fire, eating and watching the squall finally tear itself to pieces. We cleaned up and packed everything, in comfortable silence, and then stepped outside.

Aymeric stood still, and I watched his face as he took in the view.

The sun was rising, and the sky looked incredible. Tall clouds reared up, their tops blue with distance and their bottoms gilded by the light. Tiny rainbows seemed to chase each other among the rocks, winking in and out of sight. Every layer of clouds was a different color, and the hills around us seemed to glow.

His voice was soft with wonder. “I had heard tales of the world above the clouds, but never did I dream...” He glanced at me. “One's mind paints a pale picture of its majesty.”

I nodded.

“The real thing is a painting to make the greatest masters weep.” Alphinaud's voice was just as quiet as Aymeric's.

I reached for their hands, and just looked out at the rising sun with them for a little longer. _Moments like these are rarer than any treasure, and more precious._


	47. Trial by Dragon

“You dare summon me _again_ , mortals?” Hraesvelgr growled.

We stood our ground, and Alphinaud spoke up. “Great Hraesvelgr, it is not lightly that we beg this audience. Pray hearken to our words, for they concern the future of man and dragon both.”

Aymeric stepped forward. “Greetings, Hraesvelgr. I am Aymeric de Borel, acting ruler of the nation of Ishgard. I am come before you to parley on behalf of my people.”

Hraesvelgr narrowed his eyes, and his voice rumbled through my bones. “To _parley_? Thinkest thou thy purpose unclear to me? Thou are come to beg mine aid in the battle against the shade of my brood-brother.”

I heard both men draw in a quick breath, and held in the urge to shake my head. Hraesvelgr has ears all over the Mists, and we all but announced our intent to his daughter. They're not used to how dragons communicate.

“You...foresaw mine intent.” Aymeric looked down a moment.

“I but read that which is writ plain in thine eyes. Would that thou had wit enough to scry the answer in mine.” Hraesvelgr tossed his head, as if he would sweep Aymeric's request away like so much trash. “My beloved Shiva did once build a bridge 'twixt man and dragon – a bridge which thy treacherous forefathers saw fit to tear down, as thou well knowest.” The acrid bitterness in his words deepened, growing even harsher. “Thinkest thou Nidhogg was alone in despairing at the murder of our brood-sister? Thinkest thou mine own soul did not cry out for vengeance? Know then that upon that accursed day, my heart did wither in my breast, and thy kind become unto me the harbingers of despair. It is _only_ Shiva's gentle dream that preventeth me from flying at Nidhogg's shoulder. Be grateful that I swore to abjure aggression ere I consumed her.” He rumbled, and tossed his head again. “I permit my children to offer or deny thee aid as they see fit; to warn thy people of my brood-brother's coming. That thou wouldst _dare_ to ask more of me but affirmeth thine incurable arrogance.”

Aymeric's head bowed further, his eyes closing. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, even though I had known what Hraesvelgr would say to us.

Alphinaud wasn't giving up.

“We understand that in your despair at man's betrayal, you seek only the refuge of solitude,” he said. He stepped forward, his head raised, directly meeting the dragon's gaze. Hraesvelgr eyed him, another growl rising in the great dragon's throat. Alphinaud spoke calmly despite that hint of warning. “Despite your protestations of spent faith, do you not still nurture the smallest flame of hope?”

Hraesvelgr bared his teeth, his growl louder. “Perceivest thou such light in the dusk of mine existence?” The sarcasm in his words was acid enough to melt steel.

Alphinaud nodded once, his gaze steady. “I do. If you claim I see falsely, then tell me: why did you consent to bear Ysayle upon your back?”

I bit down on my reaction to his words. _What are you doing, Alphinaud? If you piss this dragon off, he might eat you in spite of his oaths._

Hraesvelgr closed his eyes. “Ysayle...Piteous, deluded Ysayle. The child did lament her past sins, and sought to balance the scales with her remaining days. It was her unquenchable passion, so alike to that of my beloved, which did spur me into flight.” His eyes opened and he fixed Alphinaud in his gaze once more. “And for mine own part, I would countenance no longer the hands of evil men to use my brood-brother's eye for ill.”

Alphinaud's tone took on a smoothness that I had heard him use in negotiations. “So you do distinguish between those who acknowledge and repent their sins, and those who perpetuate them. Interesting.” He took a single step closer. “It seems to me that you have not, in fact, lost faith in mankind as a whole. Rather, you weigh our respective merits by how we allow the past to influence our future.”

Hraesvelgr grunted. “Spare me thine idle sophistry. Even were there a mote of truth in thy reasoning, what of it? Wouldst thou have me slay mine own sibling to save a city of mortals?”

Aymeric looked up. “Should we suffer ties of blood to bind our hands then? Nay. If the crime is one of unconscionable evil, we must needs condemn it – even should the transgressor be our closest kin.” His voice was hard. “When my father corrupted himself and his followers with the power of a primal, I begged the Warrior of Light to slay him – an act alike to patricide.”

I shut my eyes a moment, knowing how much that had hurt him. Despite all that the archbishop had done, even though Aymeric had in that moment still been in agony from the wounds inflicted on him, on his father's orders...he had grieved for the man.

“That he did not die by my hand matters little – if anything, it heaps greater disgrace upon my name. But had my father not fallen, he would have drawn countless thousands into a holy war of hellish proportions – which I hold the greater crime. Thus did I order his execution, sparing the lives of my people – and yours.” His words grew more intense as he continued. “Alas, your brother wyrm now prepares to murder those whom I sought to spare. What is more, he has taken my comrade's body for his own – but if I must slay my dearest friend to defeat my direst foe, I will not flinch from my duty!”

Hraesvelgr gazed at him, unmoved. “Thou wouldst strike down thy friend and, by example of thy _righteousness_ ,” the word was so loaded with disgust that I couldn't hide my wince, “persuade me to break mine oath and kill my kindred?”

A glow appeared in the air in front of me, becoming a small orb of light that expanded, then faded, revealing Midgardsormr in his smaller form. Aymeric started back a little, and stared at the tiny dragon with a blank expression of shock.

_Heed me, child. The servants of Hydaelyn envision a different outcome. They intend salvation not only for Ishgard, but for the doomed dragon-slayer as well._

Hraesvelgr lowered his head a tiny bit, his golden eyes boring into mine.

I saw Aymeric look towards me, his lips parting. His eyes begged me to confirm what he'd just heard, and I nodded, not taking my eyes off Hraesvelgr.

Midgardsormr hovered between me and the great white dragon, and spoke again. _Believest thou this shade to be Nidhogg returned? Is it not merely a manifestation of his vengeance – the shadow cast by thy brood-brother's rage? I would not command thee, but ponder well thy course, lest it lead thee unto greater remorse..._

I swallowed hard, remembering the elder dragon's daughter, still locked in her Allagan shackles, and locked tighter still inside her own guilt. I looked into those golden eyes that stared so hard at me, and let my heart show. “There has been so much pain, so much suffering, already. Please...help us end at least some tiny portion of that pain. Help us save our companion.”

Hraesvelgr looked away from me. “Nidhogg's transformation into rage incarnate is, in part, of mine own doing. I rendered unto him mine eye, and empowered his revenge thereby. But it is the purity of my brood-brother's wrath that lendeth him his all-surpassing might.” He raised his head, and swept us with that golden gaze. “Hast thou the strength of will to stand against so terrible a shadow, I wonder? It would seem I must put thee and thy companions to the proof.”

He stepped back a half pace, his wings spreading wide. “I shall await thee in the ruins wherein Ratatoskr once dwelled. Heed well the words of my children, and hasten thee unto the place of thy trial!”

With a single down-sweep of his wings he leaped into the air. The wind of his departure nearly knocked us all back a step. Midgardsormr winked back out of sight.

Aymeric turned towards me, and I faced him. “It was Alphinaud's idea,” I told him, before he could speak. “He believes we can save Estinien...”

“Why did you not tell me...before?”

“Our plan is not guaranteed,” Alphinaud said, stepping up beside me.

“When I spoke to you that evening,” I added, “we didn't even have a plan yet.”

Aymeric shook his head, and I could see by the glint in his eye that he was going to want words with me later. But any further discussion was interrupted by the sound of wings.

A trio of dark-green wyverns swept past the platform, and dove, heading for the grassy verge that surrounded the bottom of the tower.

“Let us not keep our escort waiting,” Aymeric said. Alphinaud and I both nodded, and we headed down the stairs.

I stood before Hraesvelgr. My hair was tossing wildly in the wind – the tie having vanished in the fighting – and I was winded, aching, and ready for a good long rest. The look of satisfaction in the great dragon's eyes filled me with a sense of triumph that swept all of that away. He lowered his head, coming so close to me that I could touch his muzzle.

I heard wings, and saw out of the corner of my eye two more white dragons landing to the east and the west, on platforms that connected to the spot where Hraesvelgr and I stood.

“Even bereft of an eye, my brood-brother was a fearsome foe indeed. But having tasted of thy strength firsthand, I do begin to see how thou didst bring him low. Hydaelyn chooseth Her servants well.”

I grinned a little. “I doubt any other servant of Hers has been so honored as I have been.” I felt certain that the dragon smiled, though his face wasn't made for such expressions.

“Very well,” he said. “I shall trust in the seed of man one last time. By thy deeds shall the flickering hope that lingereth yet within my heart be kindled anew...or extinguished forever.”

I bowed to him, letting my hair hide my face. _No pressure at all, thanks_.

Aymeric and Alphinaud came jogging up to us. Alphinaud's outfit was scuffed and he seemed out of breath, but he was smiling. “Your trial is ended as well?”

Aymeric gave a small laugh. His beautiful armor was covered in dirt. “Mine was brutal beyond reckoning. My opponent seemed ill acquainted with the notion of “mock” battles.”

I grinned at them both, and came to stand between them before turning to face Hraesvelgr again.

“That you yet stand is ready proof of your determination, mortals.” The great dragon lifted his head and gave an echoing roar. “Let us fight as allies, then, and together banish my brood-brother's vengeful shade. On my oath, the wrath that once was Nidhogg shall meet its end!”

He lowered his head once more, and his voice grew soft. “This I swear, on the memory of my beloved Shiva, and on the soul of lost Ysayle...”

Alphinaud bent his head, and wiped at his eyes once.

 _For those we have lost_... I met the dragon's eyes. _For those we can yet save_.

The dragons took us back to Zenith. We all needed to rest before returning to Ishgard, and the ruins were a safe enough place now to do so.

Alphinaud turned to Aymeric, smiling. “Our negotiations proved rather more _strenuous_ than I had anticipated,” he said, glancing at me as I chuckled, “but the results seem well worth the effort.”

Aymeric nodded. “The battle was indeed hard-won. Thank you, my friends – I would never have earned Hraesvelgr's cooperation had you not seen fit to grant me yours.” He turned his eyes to me. “It was your stalwart heroism that moved the heart of the great wyrm at the last. Any gratitude I can offer is but poor reward for your continued service to Ishgard.”

Alphinaud smiled at me as well. I shrugged a little, and stretched. “We should get as much rest as we can.”

“I'll start a fire, down below,” Alphinaud volunteered, and walked off

Aymeric started to follow him, and I set my hand on his arm as he passed me.

I looked up into those blue, blue eyes and smiled. “When this is all over at last,” I murmured, “I'll be discussing _reward_ with you further, sir knight.”

He grinned.

Our camp was a little less cozy that the one we had made in the cave, but we were all in high spirits. As I cooked up a meal big enough to satisfy everyone – meaning, really, myself, as I knew I'd eat three times as much as Alphinaud – the two men arranged bedding, and saw to each other's lingering bruises.

Alphinaud's torso looked as if he had fallen down a flight of stairs, and he sighed with relief as Aymeric applied medicinal liniment. “Oh...ohhh... Oh, my poor ribs...” He sighed, and stretched a little before putting his shirt back on. “Hraesvelgr saw fit to pair me with Vidofnir, but her ferocity was such that I began to wonder if I hadn't simply imagined her injury.”

Aymeric nodded. “My own opponent seemed largely concerned with how long he could keep me rolling in the dust. Between dodging snapping fangs and slashing claws, I scarce had time to aim a blow.” He grinned, then. “Had he truly meant to harm me, of course, I would not be standing here now. Plainly, his intent was to teach. His onslaught forced me to recall my training─about the speed of the dragon, his balance, his blind spots... It was, in short, a very _thorough_ lesson.”

I laughed a little, and related to them the various nonsense that I had gone through in my own trial. “Quite a bit more involved than our own,” Aymeric observed.

“Of course,” I shrugged.

Then, I changed the subject, telling them both little stories about the times I had helped out at the Bismarck, focusing on funny moments to keep the mood as light as I could.

We ate, and then cleaned up. I only noticed then, how the bedrolls were all in one pile again.

Alphinaud's ears turned the slightest bit pink as he saw me notice, and I smiled.

“The wind is picking up,” I observed, stretching. “It only makes sense to share body heat, doesn't it?”

Aymeric laughed quietly, and finished banking the fire for the night.

I sat down, and let the other two arrange themselves. I wasn't at all surprised when Aymeric chose to lay behind me, leaving Alphinaud to be the littlest spoon. _It's only logical_ , I told myself, as I tucked my arm under Alphinaud's head and felt Aymeric's arm going around my waist. _It's not as if we're naked in a bed together. We really will sleep warmer this way and wake up better rested._

I closed my eyes, and pretended not to notice as Aymeric pressed his lips to my cheek, or as Alphinaud tangled his fingers in mine, drawing my hand across his chest. It all felt... _right_ , in a way I didn't want to think about or question. Not now.

Tomorrow might bring anything at all. Enjoying this moment wouldn't hurt anyone.

I woke at the break of dawn, laying mostly on my back. My shoulder rested against Aymeric's chest, and his leg was twined with mine. Alphinaud had turned over in his sleep, and curled up; the top of his head was pressed against my breast, and my arm had wrapped around his shoulders. For a fleeting moment, fragments of dreams clouded my mind's eye – sighs, and skin, and steam.

I shook myself, and stretched, deliberately disturbing both of the men.

Alphinaud's ears went red as he realized just how he had been laying, but once he got up and moved off, he calmed himself quickly enough. I let the two of them take care of their morning ablutions, poking up the fire and starting coffee. Alphinaud took over from me, and Aymeric toasted some bread and cheese, while I took my own turn to deal with various first-thing-in-the-morning needs.

But as I came back to the fire, the quiet morning air was shattered by what sounded like a million screeches. All three of us looked around, instantly wary, but there was nothing to be seen.

Then a roar split the heavens, a sound so huge it rattled the stones and made my bones hum.

“Oh, gods!” Alphinaud cried out. I too recognized the titanic voice that had roared over Falcon's Nest.

Midgardsormr appeared in our midst. _The cry heraldeth his coming. Nidhogg's shade hath taken wing_. He wafted over to me, and rested on my shoulder for a moment, stroking his cheek against mine. Above us, white dragons began to spiral in towards the upper platform of the tower.

“Then we must away,” Aymeric said.

Alphinaud and I nodded. It was time.


	48. Peace, At Last

I stood on the stones, gazing up at the titanic battle raging in the air above. Clouds and colored lights, screeches of pain and roars of rage – there was a lot going on up there, but none of it was within my reach. Yet.

I could hear the sounds of battle, beyond the ruined tower that formed a new wall behind me, but I couldn't have scaled the hulking thing even if I had wanted to. Alphinaud and Aymeric were on the other side, and I could hear them – Aymeric shouting orders, Alphinaud's voice raised in spell-casting chants. _They will handle matters where they are. This is my part of the battle. I only hope we can do something._

The others I had gathered waited tensely, sheltering against the tower-wall, waiting for a target they could actually deal with.

I gasped when I saw the form falling from the sky. Nidhogg seemed to plummet without control, and Hraesvelgr dove after him, jaws wide.

But just as Hraesvelgr was about to close with his brood-brother, Nidhogg's form twisted and flared, as if his every scale was abruptly coated in lava. With a shriek, the flaming dragon laid into the white, and they whirled around a common center, still plummeting.

I put my arms over my face as they struck the bridge, throwing up a huge cloud of dust and debris. But as soon as I could, I dropped them and peered through the murky air.

Nidhogg raised his head, growling in triumph, a piece of his brood-brother's wing clamped tightly in his jaws.

_No...oh gods, did he kill Hraesvelgr??_

I heard the great white wyrm groan in pain, and let out a small breath. Then I felt a strange tingling, and regarded myself, seeing a growing glow there, a flow of light coming from...Hraesvelgr?

 _“Thine eye! What hast thou done?!'”_ Nidhogg's voice was sharp with shock.

The golden orb floated toward me. I felt Hraesvelgr's energy flooding into me, his power like a flood of sunshine on a cool day. Carried on the flood of power came the briefest of images, the hints of memories – hundreds of thousands of sunrises, and the echo of a woman's voice, singing a litany of peace.

Nidhogg stared at me. _“I know thee...No matter! I will destroy thee and all thy kind!”_

I looked up at the mad dragon, and bared my teeth, feeling as if my skin could barely contain the power I had been granted. “I think not,” I told him, and charged.

Nidhogg's shade pointed his head towards the sky and howled – and then burst into a million fragments of dark aether and glowing embers. As the cloud of aether dissipated, I saw Estinien's form, kneeling on the stones, panting in agony.

I heard shouts behind me, as the adventurers who had aided my fight turned their attention to helping the knights of Ishgard create a path over the fallen tower. I heard light steps running towards me even as I sprinted for Estinien.

_He's alive – but those Eyes are still there. They seem to be drained of power – but for how long?_

Alphinaud skidded to a stop beside Estinien even as I did.

“ _No!_ ” Nidhogg's voice issued from the dragoon's throat. “ _Thou shalt die by my hand!_ ”

But the great lance rattled in his grip, and suddenly his whole arm shuddered – and the lance was cast aside.

“This is not your hand, wyrm!” I gave a little cry at hearing Estinien's voice coming from him, only to gasp in dismay as his own hand turned on him, grasping his throat and squeezing.

“ _Thou wilt...obey._..” gasped Nidhogg.

Estinien's voice returned, his eyes latching onto mine. “I ask one last favor of you,” he begged. “Finish me now, while I have the wyrm subdued!”

Alphinaud's eyes met mine and we both nodded. As one, we knelt beside our friend, and laid our hands on the vile Eyes.

My fingers dug into the fleshy mass at the edges of the Eye on Estinien's right arm. On his left side, Alphinaud put all his slender weight behind his attempts to yank the thing free.

Power pulsed through the Eyes, and I bared my teeth as my hands and arms abruptly felt as if I had dipped them in acid. Alphinaud screamed in pain.

“You fools! Kill me!” Estinien cried. “It is the only way!”

“No!” Alphinaud wept. “You can't die like this! I won't let you!”

My fingers worked farther underneath the corrupted orb, and a second, stronger pulse of pain flared through me. Alphinaud's scream held an edge of desperation.

A cool, white light began to grow around us. A pair of ghostly hands covered mine.

I raised my watering eyes and stared into Haurchefant's face. He smiled at me, and his hands squeezed mine tightly.

I heard Alphinaud's gasp and glanced across the struggling dragoon to see him staring at Ysayle, who like Haurchefant, had placed her hands over his in aid of our effort.

“ _Four hearts, acting as one_ ,” she said.

I sobbed once, and then dug my hands in, forcing my fingers to fully grasp the Eye. Then I wrenched it away, feeling flesh squelch between my fingers and hearing Estinien's scream of agony.

Alphinaud hauled on the Eye in his grasp, and staggered back as it came free.

Haurchefant held my hands, and the searing pain running through me was cooled to nothing, like a flame put out by a winter wind. He smiled, and then looked up.

I followed his gaze and saw a shape – almost like a painting of Nidhogg, if one could paint with motes of aether. He spread his wings, and murmured as he ascended. “Undone by mortal will. Whither now...?”

The translucent form rose higher and higher, and then winked out of existence, the remaining motes scattering on the winds.

I looked down, into Haurchefant's eyes. I could see through him, but I could still feel his hands. I didn't hide my tears.

Everything around me seemed to freeze in place.

“ _This is goodbye, my love_ ,” he told me, his voice a bare whisper.

“ _We were granted one final moment_ ,” Ysayle added, her silver hair not moving in the wind across the bridge.

I stared at them, unable to speak. They smiled, and Haurchefant kissed my cheek.

“ _Love him_ ,” Haurchefant told me, and let me go.

The two of them turned then, as if to walk away, and their forms winked out of existence.

Time resumed its normal pace.

Alphinaud was on the ground, looking around with an expression of confusion on his face. He still held the Eye in his hands, just as I still grasped one in my own.

Aymeric had come over the wall while we struggled. “The eyes!” he shouted. “Cast them into the abyss!”

Alphinaud and I sprinted to the edge of the bridge and pitched the Eyes as hard as we could. Not waiting to watch them vanish into the clouds, we spun and ran back to where Estinien lay. Aymeric and Lucia were already at his side, and Aymeric had lifted the dragoon to check his pulse. The pose reminded me of how Haurchefant had lain in Aymeric's arms before he died, and I choked for a moment. To have finally freed him only for him to not survive...

Then Aymeric's voice cut through my tears. “He lives!” The lord commander's voice trembled with tears. “Ah, Estinien, my ill-fated friend...”

He looked up at Lucia. “I want the healers ready to receive him. Go!”

“Aye, Lord Commander!” She took off at a dead run.

Alphinaud started forward to help lift Estinien, but Aymeric stopped him. “Allow me to do this much, at least,” the lord commander said, his voice low but intense with emotions.

Alphinaud backed off, and nodded. Aymeric lifted the unconscious dragoon in his arms. Without another word, he began carrying his friend to the city.

Alphinaud turned to me. “We did it,” he said, with wonder in his voice. He cast a worried glance at the lord commander. “All we can do now is trust to the healers and the mercy of the gods.”

I reached out to him, giving him a one armed hug. Together, we made our slow way back home.

We met with Aymeric in the Congregation, waiting patiently as he sent off a flurry of orders to help get repairs to the great bridge underway. Finally, with a tired smile, he beckoned the two of us forward.

“Estinien is...?” Alphinaud asked.

“Resting, in the infirmary. The healers say his body will recover, but he has not yet awoken.”

“Have faith,” I reminded them both, my voice gentle.

“Indeed.” Aymeric shook his head a little. “In any event, there remains only the clean-up to deal with, for now. You have both earned a long rest, and I believe Count Edmont wished a word with you.”

Alphinaud's bow was brief, and he looked distracted as he turned and left. I looked at Aymeric, and we both smiled. “He'll worry himself sick until Estinien's awake,” I observed.

“He won't be the only one sending up prayers.” Aymeric rubbed at his temple a little.

“Will you not also rest?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“...presently. I promise.”

“Good. I might even check on you.”

The look in his eyes made me grin as I bowed and took my leave.

The Count was in a celebratory mood, greeting me with a slap on the back. Wine was poured, and he and Artoirel both toasted me. I let them, drinking the wine politely, but my eyes were on Alphinaud.

He drank of the wine, but it was obvious he barely tasted it. His eyes were dark with worry, and every line of him seemed brittle with tension. I wondered if this was how he had been, back when I'd been off to fight Ravana. He looked like he wanted to pace, or possibly curse.

The Count was just suggesting that we turn in for the night, when Alphinaud shook his head, interrupting the older man.

“I beg your pardon, but I think I shall go and look in on Estinien,” he declared, setting down his empty wine glass. He didn't even bow, just left, and both the Fortemps men stared after him in surprise.

I finished my wine. “He has been deeply concerned for our friend,” I observed. “I predict he'll be on his knees in prayer all night.”

The Count's eyebrows went up, but he simply said, “I see.”

I smiled a little. “I would love to refresh myself – but I do have a small obligation to see to after I've cleaned up. Someone I promised to check in with after the battle.”

The Count met my eyes. _He suspects who it is I'm going to “check in with.” But I can trust him to keep silent about it. Still, no point making his life difficult by coming right out and saying I'm planning to go hop in the lord commander's bed_. I offered him a small, reassuring smile.

My stomach chose that moment to growl – loudly. The Count chuckled, and I laughed a little as well, even though I could feel my cheeks warming with embarrassment. I hadn't eaten since morning, and it had been one hell of a day.

“Go, take care of yourself,” he told me, his smile fond.

I chose to eat in the kitchen with the staff. I wanted plain food and plenty of it, and the servants of House Fortemps never went hungry. Once that was taken care of I washed up, and dressed in my simplest clothes. Without bothering to tie my hair, I threw on the green cloak that Aymeric had given me. As I left the house through the rear courtyard's gate, no one paid me any mind.

I tapped on the red and gold door. The street was deserted, and it seemed to take the steward a long time to answer the door.

But when the door swung open, it was Aymeric who stood there, in his shirt-sleeves and barefoot.

“Hi,” I said.

“Come in.”

The house was strangely silent, and dim. I glanced around, and he said, “I gave Jarilant and Milinne an evening to themselves.”

I shed the cloak, hanging it on a hook near the door. Aymeric reached out to me. I let him pull me in, kissing him hungrily.

“I plan to stay with you tonight,” I told him when the kiss ended.

He cupped my cheek. “All night?” When I nodded, his eyes lit up.

He took my hand, and we walked up to his room. As I came in, I saw the brandy decanter, sitting on the lovely writing desk. A single glass sat beside it.

Aymeric saw where my gaze rested, and shrugged a little. “I could not be sure if you would be able to visit. I felt the need for...distraction.”

I turned to him and put my arms around him. “You're worried about him. I understand.” I kissed him. “But since I _am_ here, maybe I can distract you?”

He ran his hands through my hair. “You are certainly distracting,” he smiled, and I laughed.

“What I am,” I said, sliding my hands up to the top of his shirt, so I could start unfastening it, “is terribly horny. Our little camping trip made me...” I kissed the skin of his chest as I exposed it.

“Oh?” He continued to stroke my hair, leaning back against the door.

I finished unfastening the shirt, and slid it open, stroking his chest with my palms, then dragging my fingernails lightly down his ribs and belly. He shivered a little, and I leaned in and kissed his nipple. His hands tightened in my hair as he sucked in a breath. When I opened my mouth and gently licked the circle of flesh, he groaned.

I lifted my head, and he cupped the back of my head and pulled me in for another kiss. His free hand slipped down and tugged the string loose that tied my tunic shut. I shrugged out of the loose tunic, letting it slide down my body, until it bunched up at my hips.

“I wanted this as well,” he murmured, cupping my breast. “Sleeping beside you that way – unable to touch you – was rather like torture.”

He let me go, and tugged his shirt off, letting it fall. Then he led me to the fireplace. Only then did I see that he had put a feather-bed and blankets down in front of it. I smiled as he drew me down.

We took our time, tasting each other, kissing slowly. Being close to the fire as we were, I didn't shiver from cold – only from the wonderful sensations he raised in me with those clever, elegant fingers of his, and his equally clever tongue.

But when he pulled his pants off, I took the initiative. I curled my hand around his member, pushing him back a little with my other hand. He leaned back on his elbows, his eyes dark as he watched me handling him.

I curled up a little, and stroked him. He was as long as Haurchefant had been, but just like every other part of him, his cock was lean and, somehow, elegant. I opened my mouth, eager to taste of him.

His eyes narrowed and he groaned softly as I took him. The sound was so sexy that I couldn't help moaning in answer. The hum of my voice along his flesh got an instant reaction. His head fell back and his cock jumped in my mouth. Delighted, I did it again.

“Berylla...!”

I bobbed my head up and down, suckling him, adding little hums sometimes when my lips met the silky-smooth hair at the base of his shaft. I was utterly focused on what I was doing to him. Shocks of pleasure ran through me at the little sounds he made.

He lay back completely, his hands sliding across my shoulders, fingers tangling in my hair. His motions were sporadic, as if he couldn't quite control his limbs. I could feel the sinuous excitement building inside my own loins, and sped up my rhythm a little.

He came abruptly, taking me by surprise as he bucked hard against me, his hands clutching my head. I gagged only for a second before figuring out how to swallow with him still in my mouth. The very act of my throat flexing made him cry out my name. I could feel wetness on my own thighs as my body reacted to his pleasure.

He tugged me away when he had finished, his breath hissing through his teeth. I tried to stroke him one more time, reluctant to let go, and he winced. I let him pull me then, until I lay stretched out beside him.

I pillowed my head against his shoulder and lay my hand on his belly. I could hear his heart still pounding, could feel how he trembled. I purred a little, pleased with myself. He seemed half asleep, his limbs loose and his eyes closed.

After a little, I turned over, putting my back against him and staring into the fire. He shifted slightly and stroked my hair, slipping his arm under my head. My eyes drifted half shut as I enjoyed that simple pleasure.

When his hand slid down from my hair and cupped my breast, I smiled.

He kissed my neck, and I turned a little, curling my arm up so that I could touch his hair. His hand drifted farther down, stroking my belly. I sighed, and my legs opened for him.

I heard and felt his quick intake of breath as he realized how wet I was. I opened further, and let my head roll back on his arm, baring my throat. “Aymeric,” I whispered. “Please...”

He slipped his fingers inside me, and I hissed in pleasure. My fingers tangled in his hair as his lips caressed my neck. My body rocked against him, a wordless plea for more.

And he gave me more. Excited as I already was, his fingers brought me to orgasm effortlessly – a long, rolling orgasm, prolonged by Aymeric's gentle, insistent stroking.

When at last I lay still, eyes shut, sated and trembling, he kissed me. “Shall we get into bed?” he murmured in my ear.

“Hm,” I smiled a little, and caressed him, not opening my eyes. “I'm afraid you've rendered me quite legless.”

He chuckled, sounding pleased with himself.

I snuggled into him, sighing. “Gods, you're always so warm.”

We stayed like that for a little while, but before I could drop off into sleep, he gently disengaged from me, and got up. I pouted at him, but he only laughed softly, and strode over to a table near the fireplace, where a pitcher and a pair of mugs sat waiting. As I sat up, partially crossing my legs, he filled both mugs and brought them over. As I took the mug he offered me, he caressed my fingers with his, and sat down beside me.

“And what's this?” I asked him, even as I began to sip. The drink was cool, but not cold, and tasted intriguingly of mint and chocolate and some kind of liquor.

“A restorative,” he answered, drinking half of his in one swallow. “A special recipe, it has been in my family for generations.”

“It's quite tasty,” I allowed, drinking some more. “Something you usually drink before sleep?”

His smile was just a little shy. “No.”

A pleased blush warmed my cheeks as I realized what he meant.

We drank without speaking, and finished at almost the same time. Aymeric took the mugs away, and came back, holding his hand out to me. “Come,” he said quietly.

I let him help me up, and we climbed into bed.


	49. Vigil

Aymeric was gone when I woke in the morning. I stretched, and contemplated sleeping more. The bed was warm...but not as warm as it had been with him beside me.

I sat up, and saw the blue-and-gold coat that I thought of as his “working clothes” was still hanging on its stand. The clock on the wall, as well as the chill in the air, told me it was still fairly early.

I got cleaned up and dressed, moving quickly – it was too chilly to dawdle.

I stepped out into the hall, and made my way downstairs. Before I could turn toward the kitchen, Jarilant stepped out and noticed me. “Ah, Mistress Berylla,” he smiled. “Would you care for some breakfast?”

“I very much would,” I answered him, smiling back. To my surprise, he didn't beckon me into the kitchen, but instead walked past me and led me to the garden. He bowed me through the door, and left me with another small smile.

The glass panes were closed tightly, and I could see snow beginning to fall, one of the feather-light snows that sometimes dusted the city at almost any time of year. But the little garden was no colder than the inside of the house, and there was a cloth spread on the table in the center. A tea pot rested on the cloth, steam curling up from its spout.

Aymeric was kneeling near one corner. I went over to him. “Good morning.”

He looked over his shoulder, and smiled. “Good morning.”

“What are you...? Oh.” I saw the stone before I saw the little portrait in its niche, and my words died in my throat.

The inscription read _A Knight Lives to Serve,_ and in the portrait, Haurchefant was smiling. Aymeric was gently tending to a cluster of silvery foliage planted in front of the stone.

I sank to one knee beside him. “This is...?”

“I can't make the journey to Dragonhead.” Aymeric's voice was calm. “I wanted something to remember him, here.” He shrugged one shoulder as his long fingers delicately plucked a weed away from the silvery leaves. “He adored sage, you know. In a month or so, the flowers should come in as well.”

I regained my composure a little, and managed a little smile. “It's interesting to see the Lord Commander getting his hands dirty.”

He laughed. “It's soothing. Many of the plants here are ones I've chosen, now.”

“Really?” I took another look around. “I don't know much about flowers, but it's certainly very lovely.” My eye lit on a small bower in the corner opposite us. “Roses?”

“Those were my mother's.” He sat back on his heels, dusting his hands off. “I don't intend to let them die, as they are very nearly my only legacy of her.”

I eyed him, wondering if I'd offended him; but when he saw my expression, he grinned. “Here. Let me show you around.”

Tiny as the garden was, the “tour” didn't take long – in fact, by the time Jarilant had returned with the second of two big trays, Aymeric was done pointing out the specific plantings and ready to sit down.

Breakfast was strong coffee, served with a triple helping of cream, and such an assortment of sugary things that I was astounded. Not that I complained – but I resolved to ask Milinne for some lessons in sweets, if she was making all this on a regular basis.

As we ate, Aymeric continued to chat about plants and growing times, and I let him, smiling to hear the contentment in his voice as he told me all about the new lilies he hoped would make a good showing this spring. It reminded me of how Alphinaud could be, nattering about carbuncles and aether theory, his eyes sparkling. Aymeric didn't chatter, but it was obvious how happy his garden made him. Listening to him made _me_ happy.

It also made me happy that he didn't even blink at the amount of food I consumed. Between the two of us, there wasn't much left but crumbs. I sighed as I finished the last of my coffee.

“This has been just about the nicest breakfast I've ever had,” I told him. “Honestly.”

“Oh, I imagine the meals at House Fortemps are more substantial than Sohm Al tarts and coffee,” Aymeric demurred.

I shook my head, smiling shyly. “I meant the company.”

His smile warmed me even more than the coffee had done. I repressed an urge to suggest that we go back upstairs. _He has work to do, even if I might be at loose ends for today. Behave yourself, Berylla._

He took my hand, and kissed the back of it. “Would that I could stay longer,” he sighed. “But there is too much to be done.”

“Duty always comes first,” I nodded. “And we can't forget discretion. Should I leave before you, or...?”

“There's a back gate,” he told me. “Jarilant will show you. The cloak should give you all the anonymity you need.”

“All right.” I tugged my hand free of his, reluctantly. “Then I had better go, before temptation gets the better of me.”

He stood up at the same time that I did, and reached out to pull me into a hug. He spoke quietly in my ear. “If I have my way, soon enough we will be able to dispense with any sneaking around.”

Then he let me go. I stepped back, and left him.

I returned to the manor and went into my room long enough to put away the green cloak. It was still so early that the Count and his sons hadn't yet risen from their beds, but I didn't hang around for a second breakfast. Instead I took myself to the infirmary.

The hospitalier captain was standing outside the door to Estinien's room, and so was Alphinaud. It looked like the captain was about to upbraid the scholar, and I stepped up. “Alphinaud? Have you been here all night?”

He looked over at me, his eyes bloodshot, and grimaced. “I'm fine,” he tried to say, but his voice cracked and he coughed.

“Your eyes look like burnt holes in your head,” I said bluntly, “and you obviously need to eat even if you don't sleep. Come on.” I took his elbow, and tugged a little.

He grumbled, but didn't resist me. As I led him down the hall, I glanced over my shoulder at the captain, and winked.

“He still hasn't woken,” Alphinaud fretted to me as we stepped outside.

“And your being there won't make him wake faster,” I answered, in a practical tone of voice. “He wouldn't want you to make yourself sick, either. Come back to the manor with me.”

“I'm not tired.”

“All right. Come back anyway, and have a little food.” I eyed him, making sure he noticed me looking him up and down. “Maybe clean up a little.”

He flushed, and I wondered if he was only now realizing that he was still in an outfit covered in soot and spatters of blood.

“Very well,” he sighed. “But only long enough to refresh myself.”

“Just exactly as long as it takes for you to feel well enough to go back,” I agreed.

We returned to the manor in time for breakfast. After eating, I made sure that Alphinaud made it to the bathing chamber. “I don't need a nursemaid,” he told me, peevishly, as he went in.

I let him alone, but I decided to lay in wait for him, with my room door open. When he staggered past, heading for his room, his hair unbound and still damp, I got up from my chair and followed after him. He left his door open and I leaned on the frame, not quite going in.

“Feeling refreshed?” I asked.

He sighed as he yanked a brush through his hair. “No. But I can't sleep.”

“Have you tried?”

He glared at me, but I met his gaze with a calm look. “Alisaie wouldn't be nagging me,” he accused.

I shrugged. “I see it less as nagging, and more as returning the favor.”

“Eh?”

“You insisted that I rest, that time I got a little too tired. Now I'm just doing the same for you.”

“I haven't been going for three or four days without sleep and food.”

“No, but you're still tired, and I would rather you not run yourself into the ground like I did.”

He rolled his eyes a little. “Fine. I'll make the attempt. But it won't work.”

“Want me to help you along?”

His eyes met mine and I felt my cheeks warm. “I could sing to you,” I added, quickly. “If you want me to...if you think it might help.”

He ran one hand through his hair and sighed deeply. “Yes. I think it might.”

I came into his room, and pulled the door closed without latching it.

Alphinaud climbed into his bed. I glanced around, and noticed there was only a settee near the window, and no small chair as there was in my own room. So I sat on the edge of the bed.

He reached out, and I held his hand in a light grip, and started to sing quietly. I chose the most soothing lullabies I knew, and I repeated each song three times, knowing the repetition would help relax him.

He closed his eyes by the time I finished the first song, but I knew he wasn't asleep. Even after his breathing was even and deep, I sang a little longer. I felt as if I could see the worry drain out of him, cleansed by the sound of my voice.

Silent at last, I watched him sleep. I thought about the things he had said to me, and the things I'd said in reply. I hadn't lied to him. I couldn't – wouldn't – allow him into my bed. But in this moment, I couldn't hide from myself the fact that I cared about him, in ways I kept trying to deny.

 _If I'm still around in six years_...

I shook my head. _I need to get some time alone, clear my head._

But as I shifted, his fingers tightened on mine a little, and I didn't move after all.

After a couple of hours, he woke. Seeing me still sitting there, he smiled, and murmured a sleepy thank-you.

I squeezed his hand, and left him to his own devices, sternly telling myself off. That sleepy smile had _not_ made my heart flutter a little, I had _not_ felt the slightest temptation to kiss him...

I took myself out to the bridge, and ran laps up and down it for a little while to cool my overheated imagination.

When I returned to the manor, I found an envelope on my bed; inside was a short letter from Aymeric.

“If I had my way, I would ask you to meet me this evening. But duty must come first, and I have several very important guests tonight. It is my hope that my negotiations will bring about a much more stable situation for Ishgard. Should you need to contact me, speak with Jarilant.”

I nodded to myself, and went back out into the hall. As I closed my door, Alphinaud stepped out of his room. I looked at him and smiled a little. “You're heading back to the infirmary?”

“I thought I might eat first,” he answered, smiling back. “Would you care to join me?”

“Sure.”

I walked with him to a small patisserie near the market-place. I hadn't been in the city proper enough to really explore, but obviously Alphinaud had, for the hostess at the door greeted him by name, with a warm smile. In next to no time we were seated near a cheerful fire, with tea in front of us.

Alphinaud handled the tea things, as I regarded the delicate, dainty cup with a touch of unease. I'd never been much of one for fancy table-wares, and though the porcelain cups were lovely – painted exquisitely with roses and curling vines – I couldn't help but feel awkward as I lifted my cup. I cradled it in my fingers with the same care I'd use to hold a flower. Alphinaud's mouth twitched as he watched me, and I pretended not to notice.

The server brought us our food, and I was glad to set the tiny tea cup down and dig in. The pie crust was flaky, and the savory filling was perfectly seasoned. I demolished mine in half the time it took Alphinaud to eat his own, but for once he didn't tease me about it.

I asked the server for a mug of plain water, and as I sipped it, Alphinaud spoke. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm?”

“When we were removing those awful Eyes...” He picked at his pie for a moment. “Did you...see anything?”

I cocked my head. “Yes.” When his eyes flew up to meet mine, I smiled. “Did you think you were imagining it?”

“And why wouldn't I think that?” He took a swallow of tea. “It was Ysayle.”

“I saw Haurchefant, as well,” I told him. “They...they helped us.”

“Yes...” He stared down into his cup, his eyes sad. “I heard her speak.”  
I nodded. “Four hearts...”

“...acting as one.” Alphinaud looked up at me. “I miss them both.”

I swallowed hard. “Me too. Me too.”

I walked with him to the infirmary, but didn't go in. “I'm going to visit with Tataru for a little while,” I told him, and left him at the door.

Tataru was pleased to see me, and chattered away at me as I sipped a beer. When she'd exhausted her immediate store of gossip, I asked, “Have you heard from Thancred lately?”

She shook her head. “No, the last thing I heard from him was that he'd seen one of those Dark Warrior fellows, lurking around near Falcon's Nest. He told me he was planning to shadow the man, see what he could learn about them.”

I frowned slightly, recalling the odd group of adventurers that had defeated a primal, then attempted to attack us. “Well,” I said slowly, “if anyone can pull that off without getting caught or hurt, it's Thancred. I do hope he checks in soon, though.”

“I'll keep you informed,” she promised, and I smiled. Then I finished my beer, and took myself back to the manor.

Once there, I sat on my bed and tried to think. There was something about those so-called Warriors of Darkness that troubled me deeply. It wasn't their ludicrous choice of title, either.

Something about them resonated strangely, as if some part of me knew them, knew their faces.

_A flood of Light...erasing everything...your world for ours...One life for one world!_

_A sea of stars...a sea of tears. Minfilia..._

I sat up with a start. My heart was pounding, and I sobbed, gripped with a sorrow I couldn't explain. I felt dizzy, sick to my stomach. I had no doubt that I had just had a vision, but nothing had stuck, nothing made any sense at all. I curled up on my side, hugging myself, waiting out the tears.

When at last I could breathe again, think again, I got up, and washed my face. Then I headed out, leaving a message with the steward: “Back soon.”


	50. Awakening

I landed Midnight outside Matoya's cave and went inside.

The old woman eyed me as I came into the main living space. “Not here to play cards, are you?”

I tried to smile. “I'm here for cards and some conversation.”

“Conversation?” She snorted. “You look like you've swallowed a hornet's nest.”

“Deal first, explanation second,” I suggested, and she gave me one of her little, wry smiles.

The cards made a soothing sound as I shuffled and cut and dealt. We sat in silence for two rounds, before I finally spoke.

“You're aware that I have visions sometimes.”

“Yes, I believe you've mentioned that before.”

“There are also some...unusual individuals who have become a concern.” I told her what little I knew about the so-called Warriors of Darkness.

She snorted. “Adventurers with pretensions.”

“I don't think they're pretending. Their skills are certainly real enough...but there's something...”

“Oh?”

“I don't have words for it. The closest I can come is...resonance.” I looked at her over the table. “Is such a thing even possible? Have you ever heard of the Mother granting anything like that?”

Matoya was silent. I let her think, and we continued to play. She trounced me that round, but I didn't care about the points all that much. As I dealt out the cards once more, she spoke slowly.

“In theory, you carry a certain resonance within yourself. Your reaction, for instance, when Krile was using my Crystal Eye.”

“I got goosebumps.”

“Resonance. The Crystal you bear, reacting to the power of another like itself.”

“So I had the right word, by accident.” I shook my head and lay down three cards. “What are the odds?”

“Better odds of that than of you winning if you keep on not paying attention,” she jibed.

I managed a laugh. “Can that resonance cause visions?”

“Cause visions?” She eyed me. “You make it sound like you've come out in spots, child.”

“I don't like having them.” I shifted my weight. “Most of the time they're bloody damn useless.” I winced a little at her frown. “Pardon the language. But they're still not very helpful.”

“What did you see, child?”

I set my cards down, and shut my eyes, trying to recall. “There was...there was a lot. Images went by too fast, like I was falling. The sea of stars, I remember that. And...a voice.” I opened my eyes. “It was the voice of that warrior, I'm certain of it. Something about ruining one world to save another.” I swallowed. “And I think I saw Minfilia.” I looked across the table at the old scholar. “I woke up crying.”

Matoya pursed her lips. “The ruin of one world to save another? How odd. Generally ruin only spreads more of itself, and saves no one.”

“I want to try to make it come back. Maybe if I went back into the Anti-tower?”

She regarded me, her eyes a little sad. “No, I'm afraid not. The only reason you were drawn there bodily in the way you were, is because Hydaelyn Herself pulled you in. I doubt she'll do it a second time.”

I gritted my teeth, holding in a curse. “If I could have made it slow down,” I managed, “Maybe I could have gotten something of use from it. What's the point of a vision that tells you nothing?”

“It won't comfort you to know, I'm sure, but even those who sought visions a-purpose often struggled to interpret what they saw.” She tapped her cards on the table. “Finish your turn, girl.”

I blinked, and picked up my cards again.

She didn't speak again until she had won the game. Then, as I was putting the cards away in their little box, she began to write on a scrap of paper.

“Here,” she said. “Any competent apothecary should be able to put this together for you, though I warn you, it'll be a pretty penny.”

“What is it?” I asked, taking the paper. There was a list of herbs and measurements.

“Essentially, it's a type of tea,” Matoya answered. “These herbs, in these proportions, will induce visions in anyone capable of having them.” Her eyes bored into me. “Do not try to use this concoction without taking proper precautions, child. Two of those herbs are present in amounts sufficient to risk serious problems.”

“Problems like what?”

“Heart failure,” she said bluntly. “This is a very powerful tool once used by Sharlayan seers. It is very, very dangerous. Don't go drinking this tea and then just lie down in your bed, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” I regarded the list. “And this will make me see the vision I had?”

“That,” she said dryly, “I cannot guarantee. It will make you see _something_. No one I know of has ever been able to truly control the flow of a vision. That's another reason why this is dangerous. You might not be able to wake up on your own.”

I regarded her. “Thank you. I appreciate the danger, and I understand. I'll find someone to...to spot me, I guess. To guard me.”

She turned away from me. “Better get going then. Events won't wait on you to dawdle about making pleasant small talk with an old lady.”

“No, they won't.” I started to leave and then turned. “But, hopefully events will let me come back. We need to have a tie breaker match.”

I heard her quiet laugh as I turned back around and headed out.

I managed to make it back to the manor just in time for dinner. I sat through the meal, quiet, eating without really tasting the food. Alphinaud was there as well, and I managed a smile for him.

“You look like a woman with a great deal on her mind,” the Count observed as the coffee was served.

“I am,” I nodded. “I'm afraid I can't share much about it, though. Mostly because the things I've been trying to learn about are...well, frankly I don't think I understand them yet.” I forced a small laugh. “I hope to be able to say more when I do figure it out, though.”

That was enough to satisfy him, and though I saw Alphinaud's curious look, I didn't say more.

After dinner, I walked outside. Alphinaud followed me.

“Are you all right? You really do look quite worried.”

“Researching things doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to you,” I answered. “Gives me a bit of a headache, that's all. Are you going to sleep tonight?”

“No. Aymeric is in some kind of meeting, so I planned to stay with Estinien again.”

“I'm glad you took time to eat something. Maybe I'll come visit in the morning.”

“That would be welcome.” He peered at me in the gathering dark. “What about you? Are you going somewhere else?”

“Just to an apothecary.” I caught his concerned look and shook my head. “If I were sick, you would already know, Alphinaud. I just need some herbs. Go on. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He touched my arm, and then left.

The apothecary gave me an odd look when I told him my request, but didn't comment as he made up the packet of herbs and handed it over in exchange for my coin. As Master Matoya had predicted, it wasn't cheap, but I didn't care. “Make sure you have someone with you,” the apothecary warned me, just as Matoya had done. “These are not for the faint of heart.”

“I know. Thank you.” I left without saying more.

I made one more stop before going back home, at a tavern on the way.

Back at the manor, I tucked the herbs into my traveling gear, and checked over everything. I wouldn't leave until we knew one way or the other about Estinien's recovery. But I'd be ready to go without delay when it was time.

Then, I sat on my bed and drank my way through three bottles of beer, making damn sure that I'd sleep and not remember _any_ dreams.

Morning came, and I indulged myself in a long bath, dawdled over breakfast, and generally made the morning last as long as I could. I wandered in the direction of the infirmary, then turned my steps aside to head into the Forgotten Knight. Tataru waved to me, and Gibrillont handed me a mug of ale without my having to ask. I sat down, and listened to Tataru for a few minutes.

“Wait, what?” I shook my head after only a few excited sentences from her. “They're going to do _what_ , now?”

“Well, it's not really clear. Everyone's certain that things are about to change in a big way, but no one seems to be able to agree on just what that means. A big assembly is being called tomorrow, or so they say – and it isn't just nobles that are being asked to come, it's everybody! There's talk that it will be a holiday for the whole city.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Maybe you can ask Aymeric what's going on?” Tataru hinted.

“Oh.” I drank my ale. “Yeah, I guess I could do that. Though he might not tell me anything,” I warned her. “If it's something that he needs to keep close to his chest, I won't press him about it.”

“Of course!”

I took myself to the Congregation, looking for Aymeric in the middle of the morning, instead of going to the infirmary. I didn't want to admit it, but the notion of being in a room with someone who might or might not be dying unnerved me in ways that facing down dragons and primals just didn't.

Things were remarkably quiet, and I was shown in to speak to Aymeric without having to wait. He smiled at me, and came around the desk.

“Where's Lucia?” I asked curiously, even as he took my hands in his and kissed them.

“Making a few preparations for tomorrow's assembly,” he answered. Then he drew me in, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his temple against mine.

I returned the embrace, and bent my head a little, tempting him with my exposed throat.

He nuzzled me, and whispered, “I had better not start kissing you. I might not be able to stop...”

I shivered, and purred a little. “What, your door doesn't lock?”

He growled very softly, and I laughed low in my throat. Then I let him go, and took a step back.

His eyes smoldered, but he managed to speak normally. “And how fares Master Alphinaud? I have had reports that he has been staying at Estinien's bedside for hours on end.”

“He's at least taking care of himself,” I told him, just as the door opened and Lucia stepped inside.

Aymeric nodded to her, and she gave him a bow and then joined us. “I am glad to hear that Master Alphinaud is being reasonable in his insistence to stand vigil over our friend.”

I laughed a little. “After the first night, I basically bullied him into sleeping. He found it sufficiently annoying to not risk me nagging him again.” I cocked my head. “I did notice there was no one else, even from among the dragoons, offering the same. I know you have duties to attend to, Aymeric, but why has no one else...?”

“Because he was friends with very few people,” Aymeric shrugged. “Revenge was ever at the forefront of his mind─revenge for the death of his parents, and revenge for his younger brother.” His smile was sad. “I would venture that in Alphinaud he sees something of his lost sibling. And in the ungentle chiding of Estinien, Alphinaud has found the elder brother he never had.”

I tilted my head, thinking, and then nodded. Aymeric was right.

“Truth be told, Estinien's tactless observations have saved me from disaster more than once, and I can well understand Alphinaud's affection for him. He is a friend for whom I would...”

“Ser Aymeric!” A knight burst into the office. “Your presence is urgently requested in the infirmary!”

“Is he – Tell them I am on my way!”

I was on Aymeric's heels as we reached the infirmary room where Estinien lay. I could hear Alphinaud's weeping as the door opened. My heart plummeted. _Oh, no_...

But as we came in, Captain Abel was smiling slightly, his expression one of patience as he regarded the scholar. As I had predicted, Alphinaud was on his knees beside the bed, his hands knotted together, his head bent as he wept. “Oh...Estinien...”

Estinien lay in the bed, the blankets pulled up almost to his chin, his hands folded on his chest. I blinked. I had never seen Estinien without his armor on. The long, silver hair that lay across the pillow, straight and smooth, would have been the envy of any maiden, and the sleeping face had surely caused some few young hearts to skip a beat. _Well damn. I had no idea he was so handsome_.

Estinien opened one eye, and spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Cease your mewling, boy. It grates my ears.”

 _Aaaaand he's still an asshole_. But I was still glad to hear him sound more like himself.

Alphinaud looked up, and scrambled to his feet, scrubbing at his cheeks with one arm. Aymeric and I came to stand just behind him. “F-Forgive me,” Alphinaud stammered, his voice cracking. “When I saw you awaken, I could not – it was such a relief!” He coughed a little and regained some control. “We feared you might never wake up!”

Aymeric crossed his arms, bestowing a stern look on the dragoon. “Now, now, Estinien. If Master Alphinaud thought any less of you, you would still be Nidhogg's plaything – _or dead_.”

Estinien's thin lips curved in a smile. I noticed his eyes were the same silver as his hair, and his face seemed far more expressive, now that it was not hidden by a visor. “Aye, aye, it was but a jest.” His voice was stronger, but still a far cry from normal. “I thank you, Alphinaud. And you, Warrior of Light. Quite how you managed to persuade Hraesvelgr to aid in his brood-brother's downfall, I cannot imagine – but full glad am I that you did. Yet again, you have achieved the impossible.”

I shrugged a little, and let Alphinaud's smile answer for both of us.

Aymeric spoke. “I for my part owe you an apology. When last we met, I did willingly loose an arrow at your heart.” I heard the tremor ins his voice, so quiet that no one else would not have noticed it. “Can you forgive me?”

Estinien's voice strengthened a little, his eyes warming. “There is naught to forgive, Aymeric. You but acted in defense of Ishgard, as is your duty. Were you any less single-minded about it, I would not follow you into battle – nor trust you at my back.” His eyes fell on Alphinaud again, and twinkled with mischief. “So let us dispense with the hand-wringing. I have heard enough mewling for one day.”

Alphinaud's jaw dropped open and he let out an exclamation of outrage. “ _Oh!_ ”

Estinien chuckled, then coughed a little, and sighed. He lay back on the pillow, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling. He spoke quietly, thoughtful.

“The tendrils of Nidhogg's foul presence bound up every fiber of my being, usurping my senses, but I yet retained some trace of awareness. The wyrm's mind was as a vast and tumultuous sea. Endlessly its black waters churned, his grief and despair at Ratatoskr's murder never calming, never receding. And driven by the surging current came wave upon wave of unrelenting rancor.” His eyes closed, and his voice sounded almost as if he were on the edge of tears – the most emotion I'd ever heard from him. “It was the very image of my own heart. There I saw the dark reflection of the hatred I felt after Nidhogg slew my family, when no path remained save vengeance against dragon-kind. Neither one of us had a choice.”

His eyes opened again, and he gazed at the three of us beside his bed. “But I was blessed with something Nidhogg was not – comrades and teachers to console and admonish me. Had I not had them to gainsay my obsession, it would surely have consumed me, as Nidhogg's did him, and we would have been in all respects alike.” His eyes wandered back to the ceiling, and his voice trembled. “Though his shade is banished, his spirit scattered upon the Sea of Clouds, I feel no joy at his passing. Where once I craved vengeance, I now crave rest.”

He looked over at the window, where his lance and his helm rested. Then he looked to Aymeric, and his voice regained some of its normal tone. “Lord Commander. My hunt is at an end. I would lay down the mantle of Azure Dragoon.”

Aymeric nodded once. I caught a hint of dampness in his eyes.

Estinien lay his head on the pillow, and shut his eyes. He sighed, once, and then seemed to fall completely still.

Alphinaud's gasp echoed my own, but Captain Abel held up one hand, reassuring us. “He has tired himself with too many words.” He smiled, gently. “I doubt not that he will make a full recovery, but he must be allowed some few days of quiet.”

“He shall have all the rest he requires,” Aymeric said firmly. Taking the hint, I reached out to Alphinaud, touching his elbow to get his attention. He left off staring at Estinien, and shook his head a little as if clearing his thoughts. He turned and followed me out.


	51. A Personal Hunt

“We need food.”

“What, again?”

“What do you mean, ' _again_ ,' Alphinaud? Did you eat yet today?”

He rubbed at his face, and sighed. “I can't remember.”

I elbowed him gently. “I'm going to nag you,” I mock-threatened.

He pushed at me. “Enough, fine, let us go eat, then.”

Aymeric spoke up. “If you wish, you both are welcome to come with me.”

Alphinaud's smile was grateful. “Yes, please. She might drag me off by my ear otherwise.”

I laughed.

He led us off, and soon we were seated at a very nice establishment, a place obviously familiar with Aymeric – done up in the style of a rustic hunting lodge, with substantial furnishings. No delicate tea cups here. “Most of the officers of the Temple Knights prefer to come here,” Aymeric told us as the serving-man set our plates in front of us. “What it may lack in variety and pomp is more than made up for by the truly excellent quality.”

He wasn't wrong. There was no menu to choose from – we were brought mugs of ale and platters of food without a word being exchanged. But the ale was among the better brews I'd had in Ishgard, and the platters were laden with a fighting man's meal – a giant slab of steak, a roasted potato, and a generous helping of seared vegetables. Alphinaud regarded his plate with a little hesitation, but dug in without comment.

We didn't talk – all of us were too focused on the food. I noticed that for once Alphinaud was eating as heartily as I ever had, and I held in the urge to tease him about it.

But when the plates were taken away, and Aymeric asked for mulled cider, I sat back and sighed with satisfaction. “I wish I'd spent more time here in town,” I said. “There are too many places to eat that I haven't gotten to try.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Alphinaud asked, as our cider arrived.

I took a moment to drink before answering him. “Yes, actually. I need to make a short trip to the Mists.”

“What for?”

I shrugged. “A bit more on the research I'm doing; a personal hunt of sorts, if you like. I'm hoping one of the dragons up there will have some insights for me.” A fib, but a minor one. I _was_ planning on consulting at least one dragon while I was out there.

I didn't know what I was going to find, not really, and I felt too self-conscious to discuss my hunch. _Besides, there's nothing either of them can do, not this time. They might want to help, but Aymeric needs to be here, and Alphinaud's likely not ready to stop sitting with Estinien yet_.

And even as I thought that, he spoke. “I feel much better for having such a good meal,” he told Aymeric. “I think I'll return to the infirmary. If nothing else, just to keep Estinien company for today.”

I met Aymeric's eyes and hid my smile. His eyes danced, but he merely nodded to Alphinaud. “A kind thought, though I warn you, Estinien may not share my opinion.”

“If he feels well enough to chase me out, I will give in with good grace,” Alphinaud promised, smiling. Then he got up, and with a bow, left us.

“When will you be leaving?” Aymeric asked me.

“As soon as I can,” I said. “I wanted to wait for Estinien to wake up – or for us to know more about his condition, at least.” I smiled at him. “I really am glad he's come through this relatively unhurt.”

“As am I.”

He finished his cider, and we both got up at the same time. We walked out together, and headed toward the Congregation.

“Before you leave,” he told me, “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” I glanced over at him.

“I'll have it delivered.” He avoided my eyes. “I have too much to do to prepare for tomorrow.”

“What _is_ happening tomorrow, anyway? There's all sorts of gossip, apparently.”

He hesitated, then took my hand, and ducked into a side-alley, pulling me along. The moment we reached an alcove just big enough to shelter both of us from casual glances, he put his arms around me and held me close, his temple pressed against mine.

“I've called an assembly,” he said quietly. “And it is my hope that soon, I will be able to lay down some of these gods-be-damned responsibilities...and have time again for myself.” He lifted his head and stroked my cheek with his thumb. “For you.”

I leaned up, and kissed him gently. “A nice thought,” I murmured. “Do you need me to stay?”

“I need you,” he answered simply, and kissed me so thoroughly that my head spun when he finally eased back.

I leaned against the wall a moment, catching my breath. He held my hands in his for a moment more, stroking his thumbs across my knuckles. “Go,” he told me. “But hold that in your heart, and return home as soon as you may.”

He let me go then, and left me standing there, my heart still pounding from his kiss.

I was putting the last few items into my pack when there was a tap on my door. I opened it, to find one of the House pages standing there. “Parcel for you, Mistress,” he told me.

“Thank you.” I took the package from him, and slipped him a coin. He grinned at me and scampered off.

The package was heavy for its size, and wrapped in brown paper and string. It bore my name, in Aymeric's handwriting. I held it in my hands for a moment, then shrugged a little and put it in my pack. Whatever it was, it could wait for now.

I headed out to look for the Count. As I had hoped, he was in the smaller library, attending to correspondence as was his habit at this time of the afternoon.

“Ah, Berylla,” he said, setting aside his pen and standing up. I gave him a peck on the cheek, and he smiled at me. “I see you've packed. Off on another journey?”

“A simple one, I hope,” I told him, “but I expect to be gone some few days. I wanted to let you know.” I winked a little. “I wouldn't want my foster father to worry over-much.”

He chuckled. “Such a dutiful child,” he teased back. Then he set his hand on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself out there. Come back to us.”

“I will.” I hugged him. “I always will.”

On my way, I stopped by Anyx Trine.

Vidofnir raised her white head as I approached, and her eyes gleamed in the late afternoon light. “What bringeth thee to my home once more, warrior of warriors?”

“I wanted to stop in and see how you were feeling, my friend,” I told her. “And I had hoped to ask a small favor of you, if you're able to travel a short way.”

She regarded me. “I am well enough to fly,” she said simply, and waited.

“I wish to undertake a...spirit journey,” I said, shifting my weight. “I'm hunting visions, basically. The trouble is, the herbs I must take to do it are considered dangerous, and I am advised not to imbibe them when alone...” I gazed up into those carnelian eyes. “I trust you as a shield-sister, Vidofnir. May I ask that you guard me?”

Her jaws opened, and she looked as close to gob-smacked as I had ever seen any dragon look.

“I? Thou wouldst ask this of...of me?”

“You are the first being I thought of when I realized my need,” I nodded. “I would understand, however, if you must refuse.”

Dragons couldn't blush, but the way she shied her great head to one side, her nose almost touching her wing, made me think she was deeply embarrassed – and flattered.

“I would be honored to so aid thee,” she said after a moment.

“Wonderful.” I smiled. “I go to prepare a place now. If you would be so kind, meet me in the Churning Mists above, in two days' time.”

“I shall.”

I bowed to her, deeply, and left.

Once I reached the Mists, I scouted about for a time. I needed an island from among the crazy whirl of rocks – one too small to interest any of the sky-lords, yet large enough to hold a bit of a shelter. I had a feeling I was going to want more than a bedroll and a scrap of canvas for this endeavor.

Before long, I had located what I needed. I set up a very basic camp immediately, and then prepared a special bag to allow me to haul materials. Thus prepared, I mounted up, and nudged Midnight back up into the air to start scavenging.

By the time the moon was rising, I had a tidy pile of rocks to one side of the little island, and my bag was full of branches and logs that I'd cut from elsewhere in the Mists. I fed Midnight, and dropped onto my bedroll, too tired to eat right now. I rolled myself up in the thick bedding, and in moments my eyes were shut.

The next couple of days were spent in similar fashion – I would get up, eat, set something to simmer slowly over the fire all day, and then set to work. Gathering stone and wood alike, I carefully built up rough walls of timber and stone. That took most of one day. Setting a roof that wouldn't fly away in the lightest of breezes took me all of the second day, but I was glad that I'd kept at it, when a squall swept in that evening. I was able to get my gear under cover before my bedding got soaked, and called it a night.

The next day dawned clear and warm, and about the middle of the morning, I heard great wings approaching.

Vidofnir's landing was delicate and careful, and she surveyed my little domain with interest.

“Dost thou take up residence?” she asked, her voice rippling with amusement.

“Not permanently,” I assured her, smiling. “But should I need the shelter, I felt it wise to have such ready before I need it.”

“Wise indeed.”

I took out the packet of herbs. “I'll brew this now,” I told her, “and I should be able to use it within an hour or so. The instructions I was given are quite clear.”

“What dangers dost thou expect, that thou requirest guarding?”

“Well,” I said as I filled the kettle and put half the packet into the water, “two of these herbs can be deadly to me all on their own. One may cause my heart to stop beating, and the other may cause me to sleep without being able to wake.”

Her head shot up as her neck went stiff. “For what dost thou risk such?”

“Visions.”

“The future is vast, warrior. Art thou certain thy quarry is attainable?”

“Not in the slightest,” I sighed. “But, this is the only way open to me, and I have to try. Something is wrong – something is coming that I need to know more about. I had a partial vision already. I must try to seek more knowledge – and the only place I can look is inside myself.”

“Surely thou couldst simply let the future come to thee,” she protested. “It shall do so whether thou will it thus or no.”

“I don't want to be stuck reacting, not if I have any choice,” I shook my head. “I know it's dangerous – but with you here, I can at least feel that much safer.”

She gnashed her jaws. “I mislike this, warrior. Thou risketh much, for very little.”

“It's a habit,” I smiled. “Forgive me if I offend, but I am mortal – I simply don't have the time to wait and see.”

She lowered her head, her jaw nearly touching the ground, and poked me in the belly with her nose. “I shall protect thee,” she told me. “Fool of a warrior.”

“Thank you.” I touched her nose very briefly.

She curled up a little, and I hauled out a second bedroll. I folded it up a little and set it within the circle of her limbs. “This is okay, I hope? If I'm leaning against you, it should be easy to tell if anything is wrong.”

She nodded, her wings rustling as she folded them.

The brew was ready, and I set out an empty bucket and a jug full of water. I didn't bother to do more than strain the herbs out of the kettle. The liquid was an unpleasant shade of green, more the color of pond scum, and it smelled bitter. I steeled myself, and drank a full mug of it, all in one long swallow.

Then I gasped and coughed, almost gagging. It tasted _worse_ than it looked. I drank a second mug, as the instructions had stated, shuddering.

“That dost look quite vile,” Vidofnir commented.

“Gleeb,” I agreed, thickly, and belched. “Nasty.”

I felt her laughing as I leaned back against the wide, white wall of her side. Already I felt the effects. _Strong stuff_. I turned my eyes upwards, looking at the clouds that endlessly danced around the Mists.

“I might talk,” I said. “I might not. If I do, I guess I'll apologize in advance for sounding like a crazy person. I can't imagine it will make any sense.”

“Understood.”

As I gazed blankly at the sky, my vision clouded, became narrow, then gray. And then I was no longer inside of my own body.


	52. Visions

I felt like I was floating. No. I _was_ floating.

I tried to move my feet. My body didn't move, but I did – rising up the way the steam curled up from the pot over the fire.

I looked around.

I could see myself, leaning against Vidofnir's side, my eyes closed, as if asleep. I could see the top of the little shelter – I was above the level of the roof, hovering. There was no wind, no sound.

I squinted, and thought about moving – and the thought alone was enough to move me. I tried lifting my arm, tried waving my hand in front of my face. I couldn't see anything, and I realized that if I had any sort of “body” right now, it wasn't visible. _Okay then_.

I thought, hard, about where I wanted to go, what I wanted to find out. The sea of stars. The answers I needed. The Warrior of Darkness.

The world around me shifted, as if melting, and abruptly I was _there_ , floating among a million points of light. A silver cord coiled around me, and I glanced at it, seeing it wind away from me into the distance. _Wonder what that's about. Well, it's not hurting me, so it doesn't matter for now_.

There was a dark cloud near me. I headed for it. Darkness – Ascians, or maybe that Warrior?

But as I approached it, a voice murmured. “I cannot allow thee to pierce this shroud. Come no closer, I beg of thee.”

 _What? Fuck you, I need answers_. I pressed on, reaching out to touch the roiling black-purple mist. A glow preceded me, approximately where my hand ought to have been, and I focused, willing the darkness to part before me.

“Forgive me, but no.”

Without warning, something I couldn't see slammed into me, knocking me backwards. Then I felt a tugging, and I looked down to see that silver cord go taut. My startled eyes traveled up the length of the cord until it saw a pair of hands.

A man stood there, in a gray robe, with gray hair, and a mask over most of his face, both hands clutching the cord. “Begone.”

And he yanked the cord, hard, like a sailor hauling on a line in a storm.

I felt my whole being yanked right along with the cord, snapping back. I hurtled away from the man and the dark cloud behind him, tumbling out of control. _Damn it!_

Everything spun around me, and my stomach flipped over. I was falling, not flying, now, plummeting so fast that the stars around me blurred. I screamed.

But my scream was abruptly broken off as my “body” bounced, rolled, plummeted, bounced again, like a yo-yo on a string.

At last the nauseating motion stilled, and I dared to look around again.

I was still falling – floating downward, more like – but the sea of stars was gone. Instead, I floated through...the forest? No, it was a beach...then a stretch of desert. _What the hell?_

Images began to parade past me. A tall man, with dark skin and snow white hair, smiling down at me. “My little hero,” he said, with so much love in his voice that I wanted to cry.

“Grandfather...?”

A woman – a tall, elegant Elezen, and a wealthy lady by her clothes – frowned at me. “You will marry the woman I choose for you, son, and be glad of her. You _must_ produce an heir for our House. I will not be gainsaid in this. Your so-called gifts are nothing but a delusion, but your duty to the family – to me! - is very real...”

“Mother?”

Another woman, with a kind face. “My darling little one. How I love you. I wish I understood what was happening to you.”

“What is this? What's happening?”

More faces, more people – faster now – and my mind reeled trying to keep up. Cousin, uncle, father, brother, sister, mother, father again but not the same man as before...

“Stop! _Stop it!_ ”

I was weeping. I couldn't feel tears, I couldn't really sob, but I was crying nonetheless. I wanted to touch each of them, to talk to them, to _connect_ , with an ache deeper than any grief I had ever known.

Were these the people I couldn't remember? Were these the families from all my past lives, that I had wondered about?

 _Child, calm thyself_.

The images still swirled in their too-fast parade, but between me and them, a shadowy form began to coil, scales gleaming with a thousand colors.

Abruptly I could feel things – a mere echo of true sensation, but enough. I had hands, I could reach out, and my palms touched those smooth, cool scales.

A snout slid under my arm as Midgardsormr coiled tighter around me. _Calm thy heart_.

“What's happening to me?” I sobbed.

_Thou sought visions without clear purpose, child. Thou wert thrown back into thine own past._

“So they...they _are_ people I knew?” I hiccuped. “My...family...?”

_Aye._

“I can't talk to them. It hurts. Why does it _hurt_ so much??”

 _Calm_ , and his nose touched my cheek. _Surely thou hast been warned before to take care when wishing._

A man – my breath caught. He looked so much like Count Edmont that for a moment I was certain it really was him. “Daughter,” he said, looking down at me. “You have made me proud. Our house will survive – nay, thrive – because of all that you have sacrificed. Be at peace.” A lily appeared and floated down to me. “I only wish I had told you before.”

The lily touched my face, and I broke into fresh tears.

The parade continued. Parents who screamed at me, who denied me and threw me out. Memories of beatings large and small. Cousins who took me in and exploited me, uncles who betrayed my trust on every level, then discarded me as useless trash when they could no longer profit off me. A hundred lives, a thousand – some good, some bad, some brutally short. The memories burned like acid, and I felt wounds appearing all over me – bruises, burns, cuts. I was beaten, broken, bleeding. I felt my soul being eaten away.

“Help me...”

Midgardsormr pressed his scaly cheek against mine. _I can only advise thee. Thou must resist, or not, with thine own strength. Be as the reed in the river, child. Hold fast to me, and bend in the flow of time and memory. Let it pass over thee._

I clutched him, hugging the smooth scaly body. Hiding my face against him did no good – my eyes wouldn't, couldn't close. But I pressed myself to him tight, shivering and weeping, but no longer trying to reach out to the ghosts of my forgotten pasts.

The stream of faces became indistinct, a babble of voices as of a distant crowd. I clung to the dragon, my tears dropping onto his scales like pearls.

“I don't know who I am,” I whispered. “All these people...I don't know them. I wanted a past...but this is...too much. I can't...handle all this.”

 _Then know thyself once more. Remember what is, not what was_.

“How?”

He didn't answer, simply kept himself pressed tight around me, supporting me, grounding me.

A voice rose above the babble. “Thank the Twelve you're all right.”

I looked up.

White hair, and cornflower blue eyes. A sweet smile, and an open heart.

“Alphinaud,” I croaked, and remembered him, sharply, viscerally. The way his eyes would sparkle as he told me all the details about his latest carbuncle design. The feel of him as I hugged him, and the lurking affection and – yes, lust – that I'd tried so hard to push away. I didn't deny it, now. “I love him.”

A gust of ice-rimed wind, and silver hair fluttering in that wind like a silken flag. A tall figure standing next to the image of Alphinaud, smiling. “Haurchefant...” Tears dropped onto the dragon's back. “I loved him. He...he is gone, but I can never forget him. Even though it hurts.”

Eyes like the sea, and elegant hands...”Aymeric.” I turned my head a tiny bit, pressing my cheek closer to the scaly jaw beside me. “I love him, too. I love them all.” I sniffled. “I'm lonely.”

 _Thou art not alone_.

“No. But I'm lonely anyway.” I pressed my hands flat against his scales. “You are, too. I know you are.” I didn't know quite _how_ I knew, but I did. “Why doesn't it crush you?”

_Answer for thyself, for it also hath not crushed thee._

“Because...because sometimes I'm able to _not_ be lonely.” I spoke slowly. “When I'm with them. When I'm with the ones that really, truly care about me.”

A crowd appeared, behind the images of the three men. All the Scions, and many more beyond them. All the friends who had seen _me_ , Berylla, and not merely the cipher that was the Warrior of Light. They had seen a person, not a savior; a friend, not some object of worship.

Less than a hundred people – a tiny group compared to the flood of those who'd known me and forgotten me, of those I'd loved and forgotten over the centuries. But _these_ faces...

“I will never forget them.”

 _Exactly_.

“They'll forget me.”

_Perhaps – but thy memory suffices. You will remember, and know them, when they are but ashes. And so, too, shall I, now._

“Because you're here? Is this part of your covenant, then?”

 _It is not. This, I do of my own will_.

I sat up a little, and turned my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were like perfect diamonds, lit from within, sparking rainbows. I didn't need to ask him why he was with me.

I set my hands on his muzzle, gently, and rested my forehead against his.

Suddenly I felt very tired. I shut my eyes.

 _Not yet, little one. Not yet_.

“Just for a little while?”

 _In this place, all things are forever. Do not sleep_.

I sighed, and made myself open my eyes again. “I don't like it out there,” I said softly. “I don't want to go back yet.”

 _Thou must answer thy calling. And thou dost not go alone. Thou hast learned what was needful to learn. There are others who need thee yet, who need thy words_.

Someone was calling to me. The voice seemed very like the great dragon's – but it wasn't him.

_Awaken now, and take up the thread of thy task. Duty awaits thee, and love. Do not abandon them lightly._

I stirred, and let him go. I floated upward, and hovered a moment. “Time to go,” I whispered.

“Berylla! Berylla!”

I opened my eyes, and groaned a little. My chest ached, and my eyelashes felt glued shut.

“ _Berylla!_ ”

“What...?” I groaned again, and lifted my hand to rub my eyes.

There was a great sigh and a hot puff of air blew my hair back from my face. “Thou art awake at last, thank all the powers.”

“Vidofnir?”

“And who else would be worrying thus about thee, foolish warrior?”

I sat up, feeling creaky, and rubbed the last of the gunk from my eyes. “What happened?”

“Thy sleep lasted nigh on _two days_ ,” she told me, “and thy breath did stop for a few moments.”

“Oh.” I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “I'm sorry.”

“ _Sorry?!_ ” Her voice went shrill for a moment, and she spluttered.

I looked up, and raised my hands towards her. “Hey, hey, calm down. I'm okay now.”

She curled her neck and put one eye close to my face. “Thou hadst _better_ be.”

“Truly, I didn't intend to upset you.” I stroked the scales of her cheek. “I'm glad you were here.”

She harrumphed, mollified a little. “I am not gifted with the ways of the healers,” she muttered.

“But you have the kindest heart of anyone I know,” I said, yawning a little. “And I could trust no one else with this. Alphinaud would have had a cat.”

The white dragon snorted, her breath mussing my hair again. “As well I might have done.” She sighed, curving her neck upward again. “And didst thou capture thy quarry?”

“Not...exactly.” I levered myself to my feet, leaning heavily on her side still. “I didn't find what I was looking for, at all. But I did find something very important.”

“Oh?”

“I don't think I can explain it very well. Maybe you can ask your grandfather.”

She reared her head up, and I heard for the first time a real guffaw from a dragon. It was a rumble like thunder in her belly, but it made me grin widely.

Midgardsormr appeared, in his smallest form, and flapped a circle around the two of us. _Impertinent child_.

“Yes, yes I am,” I nodded. “Tell her whatever you wish.” I put a hand to my belly. “I think I need food.”

“Indubitably.” Vidofnir's voice was still laced with amusement. “As do I.”

“Hunt,” I said to her, smiling. “I'll stay right here, I promise, and do nothing more strenuous than cook.”

She got up, groaning much as I had done. I sympathized. My own limbs felt heavy and tingly, and I couldn't imagine her limbs were any less numb. _Two whole days!_

She took off the “lazy” way – tilting herself off the edge of the island and letting herself fall for a few hundred yards, then snapping her wings open and soaring away. I turned to my fire – or rather the ashes of it – and got to work.


	53. Wandering Minstrel

It was trickier to do things than I'd anticipated. I had to pause frequently and catch my breath, or lean against something. I'd never felt quite so weak, even the day I had been fevered and laid out on Aymeric's couch. But I managed, eventually, to get the fire going, to set up a simple soup. As I sat with my back leaning up against the wall of my rough cabin, I rummaged through my pack, trying to figure out if I had packed anything sugary.

My fingers encountered a box, and I drew it out, frowning a little.

Brown paper, and string, and Aymeric's handwriting...

 _Oh yeah. Well, this is probably a good time to open this_.

I got the wrapping off of it, revealing a simple box with a hinged lid. The thin wood was stained a dark green, and a simple, elegant design of swooping curves was carved into the top. I opened it, and stared at the neatly stacked papers inside. Another folded paper sat on the very top, and I set the box on my lap and lifted it out.

“Berylla – Read these, or not, as you choose. I think Haurchefant would have wanted you to have them. I hope that if you do read them, they will bring some ease to your heart. He was always much better at saying certain things than I.”

My hands shook as I lifted out one of the papers out of the stack. The paper was thin, and rattled in the breeze as I unfolded it. The top line made my breath catch. I had only seen Haurchefant's handwriting once, but there was no mistaking it.

_Aymeric._

_She's coming to Ishgard._

_Father is taking her, and her friends, in as wards of our House. You know what that means as well as I do._

_ She'll be out of my reach in every way. _

_ I need you to promise me, Aymeric. Watch over the three of them. Take care of her. _

My eyes swam with tears, and I shoved the paper back into the box, stuffing Aymeric's note in as well, and shut the box. I wanted to pitch it over the side of the island, but I made myself set it inside the door of the cabin instead.

I hugged myself. I had known Haurchefant wrote to Aymeric – frequently. I hadn't asked to read those letters. _I don't want to know this_.

But I was lying to myself. A strange and uncomfortable fascination had risen up in me every time those letters had been mentioned between us. And yet...

_Take care of her._

Was Aymeric spending time with me solely because Haurchefant had asked him to do so? Was I nothing more than a legacy to him?

The thought _hurt_ , a stinging wound to my pride and my heart. I was already so sore on the inside of my head from the visions I'd had...this was a hard knock against a bruise.

I shuddered and tried to just breathe. There were more letters there. If I didn't read all of them, now, I'd wonder for the rest of my days what else Haurchefant might have said. If I didn't finish what I had started, I'd only torture myself wishing I had.

But not now. Not now. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, burying my face and letting the slow tears come.

The soup was almost done, and I had gotten over my crying fit, when I heard wings in the sky.

But when I looked up, it wasn't Vidofnir that I saw coming in for a landing. Instead, a riding bird – brilliant-red feathers under a garishly blue set of barding – flapped its way down to the ground, and flicked its wings as the rider dismounted.

I stared in astonishment. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

The minstrel bowed to me, a ridiculous courtly bow with far too many flourishes. His bird bowed too. I glared.

“Sometimes,” he said as he straightened, “the artist needs must seek out his muse.”

“I am not in the mood for story time,” I snapped. “And I don't recall sending for a fool. Go away, Marius.”

He just smiled slightly, and walked over, settling himself on a boulder near me. His bird poked around for a moment, then curled itself up on my wood pile.

I frowned. “I didn't say make yourselves comfortable.”

“There's no need to be hostile,” Marius said mildly.

“Why are you – no, better question, how the fuck did you find me?”

“I was sent,” he answered, leaning back a little and crossing his ankle over his knee. Then he very deliberately made eye contact with me, his silver eyes completely serious. “By the Mother.”

If I hadn't been so exhausted I would have shot to my feet. “Liar.”

“You know I don't dabble in improvised fiction,” he chided. “Hydaelyn sent me.”

I was silent for a moment, struggling not to simply swear at him continuously. “Why should I believe you?”

“You know better.” His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. “You _know_ what I know about you.”

I twitched, and dropped my eyes. I didn't like remembering our first meeting. Marius had effortlessly invoked the power of my own Echo and dragged me into the vision-world. He had proven to me that I was the Warrior of Light. He _did_ know me. He always had. He always would.

I sighed loudly, and reached for my soup pot. “Fine. Do as you like. I'm too damned tired to argue with you.”

I served soup to myself, and with a small sigh, dug out another bowl and gave some soup to Marius. Maybe he'd say his piece and go away before Vidofnir returned.

But he sat there, enjoying the soup politely, while I inhaled my first two bowls.

After the soup was gone and I'd cleaned out the pot, he spoke.

“I heard you screaming. Weeping.”

I stared at him, clamping my mouth shut.

“You were in there a very long time.”

“I don't need or want you to make a song out of every damn thing I do.”

“I know that. I'm not here for chronicles, Seahawk.”

I glowered. “Don't try to feed me any bullshit lines saying you _care_ about me. I might be tired, but I'll still kick your ass.”

“You don't need to get bitchy,” he replied, the first sign of annoyance he'd shown me. “Honestly, you're so _cranky_ when you're heart-sore.” He sat there, watching me fume silently, and said, “I swear to you, I will keep your words in confidence. But if you don't talk to someone soon, Seahawk, you're going to go mad.”

I leaned away from him, but ice threaded down my spine.

He set his bowl down, and leaned his arms on his knees. “It's happened before, you know. I don't want to see it happen again.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I'm fine.”

For the first time since I'd known him, he dropped all pretense. The look on his face was one of worry and anger. “Don't be an idiot. Fucking _talk to me_ , Seahawk. You know I won't make fun of your feelings, I won't judge you even if you've been a colossal asshole. There's no one else on earth that can listen to you the way I can. And no reason at all for you to be a frustrating _bitch_ about this.”

“Why not just drag it out of me with your power then?” I snapped.

“ _Because I can't_. Whatever you've done to yourself, I can't touch your Echo.” His voice was harsh. “She can't hear you. I can't touch you. You have to talk to me.”

That made me go still. “Oh.”

“What did you do, Seahawk? What happened to you?”

I pulled the herb-packet out of my bags, and handed it to him. He took it, and read the tiny script written on the brown paper.

When his eyes met mine again, they were wide with fear. “You could have died.”

“I know that.”

“What the hell were you looking for? If you wanted to see your ancestors, you could have just _asked_ me.”

“I wasn't...” I sighed, and gave in. I told him, as best I could, about the Warrior of Darkness. About my vision quest, failed as it had been.

Predictably, he latched onto the information I _didn't_ want to talk about.

“So you're in love. That's good.”

I rolled my eyes. “The last thing I want is relationship advice from you, Marius. And I sure as hell don't need your approval.”

“You may not need advice or approval, but you definitely need to talk about it.”

“Ugh, what do you think you are, my therapist?”

“Yes.”

I glared, and he glared back.

“Fine.” I reached over, grabbed the box of letters, and tossed it to him. “Here. Satisfy your fucking curiosity.”

He opened the box, glanced in at the top letters, still opened, and then set them back down and shut the box. But he didn't hand it back.

“So these are the letters of a dead man.”

“You knew about Haurchefant already.”

“I did. By the way, before it even occurs to you, I did not write any of those particular songs.”

I sighed. “Believe it or not, I never thought you had. Ishgardian minstrels love a good bawdy song. Seventeen versions of the story, and every one of them either a bedroom farce, or something just short of obscene. None of them had the facts.”

“Aren't you glad of that, though?”

“I don't know.” I flopped back against the wall of the cabin. “I wouldn't have objected to everyone knowing about us while Haurchefant lived, if the question had ever come up.”

“He didn't want people to know?”

“He and I were...already apart, by the time he died.”

“Making it that much more painful, I imagine.”

I covered my eyes. “I never got to tell him how I really felt. So yeah, it was rough.”

“It might not be much comfort, but I think he knows.”

I dropped my hand and looked at him, my brows creased, ready to cuss him out. But the look on his face stopped me.

“Remember my abilities, Seahawk.”

“You _saw_ him?”

“At least once, yes. You've seen him too, have you not?”

I swallowed hard, remembering the bridge, and nodded.

“He loved you very much,” Marius said softly.

“I know. I knew it before I lost him. I just...wish...” I hugged myself. “This isn't going to get easier. Ever. I'll always ache for him.”

“You will. But you won't let it stop you from living. That's one reason why She keeps you around. You never quit even when others have died trying.”

“Good to know that Mother values my stubborn streak.”

“These letters,” he said. “Have you read them all?”

“No.” I looked away. “I don't know if I want to. The one I did read...”

“Why not tell me about the situation, then?”

I sighed. “Why do I feel like you just want some juicy gossip, now?”

“I already promised you, this won't become a song. I'm not going to repeat myself.” He set the box down between his feet, and leaned on his knees again. “And your feelings are half destroying you, which conceivably could put you at risk when She needs you most. So talk.”

I leaned my head back against the wall and shut my eyes. Somehow it was easier, not looking at him, to just talk. I rambled on, not even trying to make a lot of sense, and he didn't ask me questions. I talked about Haurchefant, about Aymeric.

I spoke haltingly about Alphinaud, about how much I cared for him and how much I really, really didn't want to take advantage of his inexperience.

“I could practically just walk into his bedroom and have him without a word,” I said. “And that's so fucking wrong it makes me sick. Knowing how _easy_ it would be, how much he'd _thank_ me for it even. At first. And then what? Nothing good could come of it, I just know it. He's too damned young.” I sighed. “I wish I could say I don't dream about it sometimes. I feel guilty for it.”

“And so you turn to Aymeric.”

“I'm not using Aymeric as a substitute, if that's what you mean.” I shifted. “Okay, maybe it adds fuel to that fire, but I wanted Aymeric anyway.”

I sat up a little. “I don't know if Aymeric actually wants me.”

“I thought you'd been together?”

“Yeah but...” I gestured at the box. “I don't like the thought of being nothing but some kind of hand-me-down lover, a legacy from Haurchefant.”

Marius glanced down at the box, and then reached for it. He dug through the letters for a moment, scanning them quickly and shuffling them around.

“What are you doing?”

“They're not in order. I'm putting them into a chronological sequence.”

“Huh?”

“You seem to have read one of the later letters, I'm going to the oldest one first.”

“You...why...?”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “I'm going to read to you, Seahawk.”

I put my hands over my face. “Oh gods, what did I do to deserve this?” I peeked through my fingers at him. “You're like the worst sort of sibling ever.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” He shuffled the letters a little more, then gathered them up and straightened them, tapping the papers into a neater stack.

“I am perfectly capable of reading those on my own. Give them back.”

“Nope.” He eyed me. “You might read them, but then you'll lock yourself in your own skull again and that is not healthy, not right now. And I'm not going to sit around for days while you stew.”

I growled, but he ignored me.

When Marius began to read, I was reminded of another of his talents, the major reason he was such a successful minstrel. If I shut my eyes, I could believe it _was_ Haurchefant sitting there reading his own letters to me.


	54. Washed Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel you've missed something, the bonus material that takes place between this chapter and the previous chapter is posted separately!
> 
> Link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24425923
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with me!

I woke up in the bed, inside the cabin, with no clear memory of getting into it.  
I sat up, feeling weak and tired still, but unable to stay still – not least because of the insistent call of nature that asserted itself the moment I moved.  
But after answering that need, I stumbled outside, and looked around.  
Marius was gone. My fire was banked with care, but not the way I usually did it. My dishes were cleaned and sitting on top of the boulder where the minstrel had sat. So I didn't dream him being here, at least.  
I stretched, and then paused. I felt...different.  
I wandered about the island a little bit, putting things away, poking up the fire, making coffee for myself. All the while I pondered my own mental state.  
It wasn't until I was chopping up wood and stacking it against the cabin wall that I realized what was different.  
I had been hurting inside for so long, since before Haurchefant had died. Since that gods-be-damned banquet. Everything had felt off-balance, everything had been just a little bit wrong, and the rage had never been far away.  
Even when I'd been with Aymeric. Those moments that I had arched against him, screamed his name, transfixed in ecstasy – the rage had still been there, hidden, festering there in the depths of my heart. It had poisoned so much of what I had done, sucking the sweetness out of victory, turning what should have been love-making into nothing more than rut.  
It had driven me to take risks I didn't need to take, to violence I didn't need to pursue. It had made me push away my friends, driving a wedge between me and them as it whispered that I needed to protect them...from myself.  
I still hurt. I was still angry. But if that rage had been a festering wound, the wound had been lanced, drained, and was more than halfway healed.  
I felt clean, in a way that I couldn't quite put into real words.  
Had Marius done this? I frowned, uncertain. I had snarled at him, mocking him by calling him my therapist. But maybe he really had done something for me – to me? - that had helped. A flicker of memory – no, not memory, that had to be a dream. Surely he and I hadn't...No way. No, I just had a bit more of that brandy than I thought.  
Still, I owe him a thank you, then, next time I see him.  
I spent a little more time putting things to rights – then made myself stop procrastinating. Time to go home. I was a little worried about seeing Aymeric again – I knew it wouldn't be quite the same as it had been between us. Not until he answered a very important question...  
But hanging about here, in the middle of nowhere, wasn't going to get me any answers.  
As if I'd called to him, Midgardsormr appeared before me, in his larger form. As he settled to the ground with a flip of his wings, I shouldered my pack, and walked up to him.  
He lowered his head, and I leaned my forehead against his cheek for a moment. After everything that had happened in these past days, neither of us felt the need to speak aloud. I lifted my head and met his eyes, and nodded once. Then I climbed onto his back, ready to move on.

We glided in over the city, and Midgardsormr landed gracefully on the airship landing – currently empty, but showing signs of impending traffic. I dismounted and stroked his shoulder once in wordless thanks, before walking away. Behind me, I heard him take off and heard the workers on the platform murmuring to each other in wary wonder.  
Then I caught sight of a familiar blue-and-gold coat.  
Aymeric waited for me as I left the landing proper. He looked tired, but his smile was wide and welcoming.  
“I was gazing out at the Sea of Clouds, in an all too rare moment of idleness, when I chanced to behold a certain hero wending her way towards the city on dragon-back. Welcome home, Berylla.”  
I saw the same reservation in his posture that had been there when I left a week ago. “I hope you didn't go to any trouble on my account,” I said, hesitant.  
“Nay, 'twas no grave matter that moved me to greet you in person.” His voice lowered a little, but he came no closer to me, and I knew we were being watched. “Between you and me, I merely sought respite from the pressures of office... No sooner do I surrender my role as temporary head of state than I am burdened with a position of more permanent responsibility! I fancy that it echoes in some small measure the way you must feel when your improbable feats of heroism are rewarded with still more impossible challenges...”  
I set my hand to my mouth, understanding a little bit what was going on. Whatever it was he'd planned for that assembly had, it seemed, rather backfired on him.  
“The myth which guided our society for generations lies in tatters─am I then to be scorned for building upon the system of nobility that I once sought to tear down? And what strange jest is this that places me at its pinnacle? An archbishop's bastard at the head of the House of Lords...”  
My eyes went wide, and he laughed a little.  
“Ah, but these questions are for me to answer.” His eyes moved from my face to look out at the endless sky beyond the landing. His voice took on a thoughtful tone. “It is not in man's nature to change overnight. This I learned through painful experience. And it was this hard lesson which convinced me to take the path which we now follow. Even as we rebuild the bridge between man and dragon, so must we re-imagine Ishgard─one carefully placed stone at a time. We must remember that it is not for us that we lay this groundwork, but for the men and women that our children will become. May their towers rise proudly from the foundations of our legacy.”  
I nodded once, and he met my eyes and smiled again, slightly.  
“I hear word from Captain Whitecape that Estinien has vanished from his sickroom. His willfulness survives undiminished. Should you ever happen upon our unmannerly friend on your travels, pray assure him that I shall keep Ishgard safe until he deigns to come home.”  
“Naturally.” I hesitated. “Are you...going home for the evening?”  
He shook his head. “To my regret, no. I have meetings tonight.”  
I bit down on my disappointment and managed a small smile. “Take care that you do rest at some point, Lord Commander.”  
He laughed very quietly. “Thank you, Berylla. And please, convey my warmest regards to Master Alphinaud.”  
I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to kiss him,. I wanted to drag him to bed – any bed – and wear him out until he slept so thoroughly that the dark circles under his eyes would go away. All I could do – being in the public eye as we were – was nod and give him a small bow.

I stepped into Fortemps Manor and was almost immediately tackled.  
I laughed a little as I returned Alphinaud's enthusiastic hug. “Hi to you too.”  
“I was beginning to worry you weren't going to come back,” he said into my shoulder. I squeezed his shoulders a little tighter, and let my eyes close.  
“I wouldn't abandon you like that,” I murmured. “Things just took time, and I had no way of really knowing how long I'd be gone. Forgive me, my friend.”  
“Of course.” He pulled back a little, and looked up at me. “I hope you found what you were seeking.”  
My smile bent a little. “Not quite, but I did learn a few things. Nothing I can explain very well, unfortunately.”  
“Berylla! You're home!”  
Alphinaud let go of me as Tataru dashed towards us, and I went down onto one knee. To my surprise, she hopped up and hugged my neck. “We were worried about you!”  
I hugged her back. “I would have told you when to expect me, if I'd had a clue how long that was going to take. Sorry.”  
She let me go, her eyes sparkling. “I was just about to go out – you won't believe what's happened while you were gone!”  
“Something involving a House of Lords, whatever that means,” I guessed, and grinned as I stood up.  
“I'd be happy to fill you in,” Tataru grinned back.  
“Let me put down my things and wash up a little, and I'd love to let you tell me all about it,” I answered.

Over drinks and food at the Forgotten Knight, Tataru and Alphinaud both took turns telling me about the enormous to-do that had come and gone while I was off on my vision-quest. “There was singing in the streets the night after he made his announcement,” Tataru exclaimed. “I have never had so much free ale in my life!”  
“She came home at dawn, drunk as a lord,” Alphinaud chuckled.  
“It was glorious!”  
“You didn't think so the next morning.”  
They both laughed, and I joined in, glad to see them both in such high spirits. I was even more glad that I could laugh without feeling like a full jar being tipped a little too much. The place inside of me where that rotting rage had lurked was nothing more than a dull ache now. I might even write Marius a letter to thank him. Gods, what a relief.  
Most of the rest of their news was more like gossip, but I listened eagerly, basking in the warmth of their smiles. We sat there for hours, until at last Gibrillont chased us gently out.  
Tracing our way home in the light of the street lamps, I watched Alphinaud out of the corner of my eye. Had he actually grown an inch or two since I had left, or was it merely that my own perception of him had changed that much? He's still too young, I reminded myself. But for the first time, I let my mind imagine what he'd look like in a few years, and didn't flinch away.  
Tataru went ahead of us into the house, and I let my steps slow just a little. Alphinaud turned toward me, with a questioning look, and I reached out and hugged him.  
His arms went around my waist immediately, though I could feel his surprise. “It's really good to be home,” I whispered.  
He just held onto me, and I pressed my cheek against his hair, my hands rubbing his back in small circles. Finally he eased back, and I let him go. His ears were a little pink, but his smile was wide as we headed inside.

A space of some days passed, and I found myself at loose ends. There was no work of my usual sort – though there was a great deal of preparation going on in a quarter of the city just beyond the Brume. “The Restoration Project,” the rumors were calling it – though to my eyes it looked rather like “The Survey and Rescue Project,” as men and women scrambled over the ruined stones, sometimes tripping and nearly falling to their deaths. But a great call was going out for those who could do work of a more creative sort – wielding chisels and hammers, needles and awls, rather than spells and swords.  
I found myself drawn to the notion. The day after my return from the Mists, I presented myself to the planners, offering my talents as a cook and as a gatherer of materials.  
“Mistress Berylla, what an honor.” The clerk peered up at me. “I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what to say.”  
“Tell me what you need brought in, or if there's anything your workers need in the way of provender,” I suggested.  
“Well, certainly...” He slid a piece of paper over to me, a look of cautious hope in his eyes. I glanced over the paper. “Wow, that's a lot.” Then I grinned. “I'll make sure that word of this gets around even farther. You'll have your supplies, never fear.”  
I kept my word, spreading the news in every big city, starting with all the people who had ever fought by my side over the last two years. Excitement spread like a wild fire, as folks who were sick and tired of swinging their swords found a different kind of work and threw themselves into it with boundless enthusiasm.  
I was just as excited, and spent an entire day hunting for, and gathering, the specified sorts of wood that had been on the clerk's list. Then, the next day, I set up a huge batch of tea and stew, and though I was not alone in working to feed the incredible crowd of people who had shown up to lend a hand in the rebuilding, I knew I was contributing significantly. That was enough for me to come back.  
I came home each day reeling with fatigue, barely managing a bath before collapsing into bed – but for all my exhaustion, I was steadier, happier, than I had been for months.


	55. Promises

I'd been working among the Restoration folk for ten days, when Alphinaud showed up in the late afternoon. I saw him, but was in the middle of cleaning up my area, and he didn't look my way. Instead he headed straight for Francel – who had been put in charge of the whole project, much to my quiet pleasure. The two men spoke for a few moments, and I turned my attention to scrubbing out the gigantic kettle that I'd used for the day's fish stew.

I literally had to get my head and shoulders inside the pot to get the last of the slightly-scorched stuff off the bottom, and so I didn't hear anyone coming. When I finally eased back, sighing a little, the soft voice at my elbow made me jump.

“Are you nearly done?”

I turned to look over my shoulder, and saw Alphinaud standing there, a little smile playing around his lips. “Almost,” I allowed, then made a face at him. “You took a year off my life, sneaking up on me.”

“I was hardly sneaking. You were...hmm.” His eyes sparkled. “Immersed, shall we say?”

I glanced down and realized the work tunic I had on was quite thoroughly soaked, and my underthings were clearly visible. I felt the blush hit my cheeks, and stuck my tongue out at him. “Well, I _am_ done with cleaning,” I said. “What is it you're here about?”

I set the pot aside, and vainly swiped at my front with my towel, which predictably did exactly nothing.

“I decided to fetch you home a little early, since you've come in late for several nights running.”

“I've been eating here, after everything else is done. I've not been starving myself or anything.”

“You don't have to stay late every night, Berylla.”

“I know.” I eyed him. “Nothing's wrong, is it?”

“No. I just miss your company.”

The quiet words warmed me and I ducked my head a little, clearing my throat. “Let me just finish putting things away.”

He moved off, far enough to be out of range of any splashing water, and I rinsed my pot out and set it to dry. I made sure the whole station was cleaned and ready for the next person, and waved to the plump woman who was acting as a kind of overseer for the eating area. She smiled hugely and waved back, her green eyes twinkling as she cast an appreciative glance over Alphinaud.

I turned to him and spread my hands. “Okay, I'm ready.”

We started walking, and I shivered as the wind gusted across me. I was really soaked.

Alphinaud paused, and even as I turned to see why, he was taking off his coat and settling it across my shoulders.

“It should help,” he told me, smiling. “At least a little.”

I closed my fingers on the lapels of the coat, trying not to notice the scent of him rising from the blue fabric. Trying not to stare too long at the lean frame under that white silk shirt. He looked pleased with himself as we continued walking toward the manor.

I started to turn down the little side lane that would let onto the “back entrance” to the manor – or rather, the wide alleyway that gave access to the back wall of the property where the servants' entrance was. Alphinaud put his hand on my arm, and shook his head.

I frowned at him slightly. “I've been coming and going this way for almost two weeks, Alphinaud. And _look_ at me...I'm going to need a bath before I can do much of anything else. Might as well come in through the kitchen.”

“If you insist.”

“I didn't say you had to go with me. I'm a big girl, I can walk alone.”

“Not with my coat you aren't. I'm rather attached to that.”

I laughed. “If you insist,” I teased.

“I was hoping,” he said as we began walking again, “to tell you about the new book I acquired. It's been a long time since we just sat and talked that way, you know.”

“It has been a long time,” I nodded. “That sounds nice.”

“After dinner?” he offered, and I nodded again, smiling at the way his eyes lit up with pleasure.

Then we were at the servants' gate, and I handed his coat back to him and took myself off for a good, hot bath.

The steward was waiting for me in the hallway as I came back from my bath, standing patiently beside my door. I tilted my head as I stopped in front of him. “What is it?”

“An invitation from a truly preeminent personage was delivered to the manor but a short while ago. Would that you had been present to receive it, but in any event...” The older man cleared his throat, and lifted the piece of thick paper, reading from it. “Ser Aymeric de Borel, lord speaker of the House of Lords, lord commander of the Temple Knights, and viscount of House Borel, cordially invites Mistress Seahawk to dine with him at his estate.”

My eyes widened and my heart skipped a beat.

“You seem surprised,” the steward observed. “The messenger assured me that his lord had broached the subject with you at an earlier date─when the arrangements for the peace conference were still being finalized...”

“Yes, yes of course,” I nodded. “I just thought...since the lord commander's so busy these days...”

“Of course, there has been little opportunity for leisure. But it seems plain the lord commander sees no further cause to delay. What say you?”

“I'm going, of course,” I said immediately. “Please, will you make sure he knows?”

The steward bowed, and smiled. “It would be my honor, Mistress Berylla.”

He walked away, and I went into my room.

Not ten minutes later, I was yanking at my hair in frustration. I had on my usual clothes – the heavy canvas pants in sea-blue, and a plain tunic, and my favorite vest. But as I gazed in the mirror, I knew that these clothes just wouldn't do. Not for tonight.

I turned and left my room, going down a few doors, and tapping. _Gods, I hope she's here and not at the tavern yet._

“Come in.” As I slipped inside, I saw Tataru was sitting at a writing desk, sketching something. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “Whatever is the matter, Berylla?”

I put my back against her door for a moment, my right hand circling my left wrist. “I need some, um, advice. About, about dinner...” I blew my hair out of my eyes. I hadn't tied my hair up yet. “Dammit. I'm supposed to have dinner. With Aymeric. And I...” I looked away from her, knowing my face was getting redder and redder. “Gods, I feel like an idiot. Am I supposed to, to dress up or something?”

“You're nervous.” Her eyes twinkled a little. “Berylla, are you actually more worried about a fancy dinner than about facing down a primal?”

“I know how to deal with a primal,” I muttered. “I don't know a damn thing about – about being...pretty.” My throat closed on the last word, and it came out as a whisper.

Tataru got up and came to stand in front of me. “Berylla. Calm down. I'll help you in any way I can. What is it that has you so flustered?”

It hurt me to say the words. “I don't know what to wear.”

She pressed her lips together, and her eyes danced, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “Don't,” I said in a low voice. “Don't laugh at me. Please.”

“I'm not. All right, maybe a little.” She took a long breath. “It's just – you're the most capable person I know, my friend. This is a whole new side of you.”

“Capable.” I snorted. “I was hoping to maybe look a little nicer than “capable.” It _is_ a special occasion, after all.”

“True. Who else will be there?”

I blinked at her. “The invitation didn't say. I guess it's just me.”

“Oho!” She clapped her hands together. “So you want to look attractive for Ser Aymeric?”

“ _Tataru._ ”

“Okay, all right, I won't tease you. What you do want to wear?”

“I don't know.” I pulled my hair, making an exasperated noise.

“Well then, let's go to your room, and take a look. I'm sure we can put something together.”

Twenty minutes later, the Lalafellin threw her hands into the air. “You have how many _axes_ in here, and not even one skirt?” She shut the lid on my meager prism collection.

“I like axes,” I mumbled.

She sighed. “Well. There isn't time to make up an entire outfit for you before tonight.”

“I'm sorry I wasted your time...”

“I didn't say I was giving up!” Tataru glared up at me. “Sit down.”

I sat on my chair and watched her pace. After only a dozen turns, she stopped, her eyes lighting up. “Aha!” She turned to me. “Stay put. I'll be right back!”

Before I could object, she was gone.

“There. _Now_ take a look.”

I turned toward the mirror, bracing myself for the worst. Tataru had gotten clothes – but she'd also done something to my hair and painted stuff on my face. The skirt felt strange, though it was at least nothing like the overblown gown, with a bustle and tiers of lace and roses, that she had first tried to shove me into. Above the skirt, the tunic (one of my own) and corseted vest felt more familiar.

I had closed my eyes as I turned. I swallowed once, and opened them.

The woman staring back at me from the glass was...stunning.

The simple clothing looked _right_ in a way that defied my understanding. The bands of embroidery that Tataru had added to my tunic brought just enough ornamentation, without being fussy or frilly or foolish looking. The carved comb Alphinaud had given to me rested in my hair, which Tataru had somehow managed to pull back a little and also to imbue with curls that I'd never had. The colors of the comb harmonized with the green of both the skirt and the embroidery on the tunic.

The cosmetics Tataru had applied were barely obvious. Yet somehow my eyes looked greener than they ever had, and my cheekbones seemed...nicer, somehow. I let out a soft sigh, and smiled at my reflection. Then, I turned.

“Tataru, you're a miracle worker.”

She grinned at me. “You're easy to please. If you gave me time enough, I could do a lot more.”

I shook my head. “I believe you, but...” I glanced at myself in the mirror once more. “I've never felt prettier.”

I arrived at Aymeric's door a few minutes before the appointed hour. When Jarilant opened the door, his eyes warmed to see me. He bowed me in, and took me directly to the dining room.

Aymeric stood up as I came into the room, and we both paused a moment, staring at each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jarilant hiding a grin.

Aymeric wore a soft alpine coat. I couldn't help but notice that he wore the style _much_ better than Emmanellain did. Beneath the coat, a brocaded tunic in sapphire blue, with a few threads of gold running through the weave – his House colors. Those amazing legs of his were encased in white leather boots that came up past his knee. When I dragged my gaze back to his face, his sea-blue eyes were traveling over me, and my skin tingled, as if his glance were a physical touch.

“You look lovely,” he told me, and I ducked my head a little, knowing I was blushing. Again.

“I had a lot of help,” I managed. Our eyes met.

For a breathless moment I thought he might call off dinner entirely and take me upstairs right now. But the moment passed, and he took my hand, and kissed the back of it, a courtly gesture that from anyone else would have seemed overdone.

I felt a little as if his lips had branded my skin.

He pulled the chair out from the table for me, himself. When we were both seated, Jarilant began to serve us.

The meal was, in a word, amazing. Even the humblest dishes were so excellent that I had to smile. Milinne had outdone herself. Aymeric kept the conversation going, getting me to tell him stories about the lighter moments in my journeys. Every time I managed to make him laugh, I felt a peculiar jolt of joy. As we devoured the last course – Sohm Al tarts, naturally enough – I wondered what it might be like, to come home to him every day. Would we enjoy meals in his kitchen, and the easy conversation? What would it be like, to wake up beside him every morning?

Jarilant cleared the plates, and began to prepare coffee. I watched the older man handling the pot and the cups, and my mind flitted back to that awful night in Uldah. I focused on his hands, and reminded myself sternly that Jarilant was no conniving, coerced handmaiden. The lords of Ishgard were far too proud to stoop to poison, and the commoners worshiped Aymeric at this point, knowing that he would always defend them to the best of his ability. There was nothing to fear...

The front door crashed open, and I started in my seat.

A messenger in House Fortemps colors rushed into the doorway of the dining room. Jarilant barred his way, and I was stunned to see a heavy dagger in the old man's hand. “Explain yourself at once!” He snapped at the messenger.

“I beg your forgiveness, Ser Aymeric, Mistress Berylla – but – a young lady has been brought to the manor, and my lord Count sends for you _most_ urgently!”

I shot to my feet. _A young lady? That can't be Tataru or...oh gods. Oh gods, no...!_

Aymeric was on my heels as I ran out of the house.


	56. Snowstorm

The girl lying on the couch in the sitting room was pale, her hair falling across the plum-purple cushions like snow.

_No...that's Alisaie...oh gods._

Alphinaud knelt beside her, his posture stiff with anxiety.

“What happened?” I whispered, too shocked for louder words.

Thancred answered. “I've been shadowing those strange adventurers we met, as you know. Someone else was also following their trail.” He sighed. “But she wasn't as good at it as I am. They caught her, and that damned archer of theirs shot her with a poisoned arrow. It bit deep, and I could only do so much. I brought her here.” He shook his head.

I wanted to go over, to kneel beside her as Alphinaud was doing, but something about the way he held himself told me that to try it would be to invite an outburst from him.

Aymeric stood regarding the scene for a moment, and then spoke. “We shall have our best doctors care for her.”

“Thank you,” I told him, without looking at him.

Alisaie's head moved, her eyes only half open. “Berylla...? Is that y-you?”

I went to her then, going to one knee. “I'm here, Alisaie. Sh. We've got you safe. You're going to be all right...”

“The...” She gasped with pain, but fought to keep speaking. “The warriors of darkness...they mean to summon Garuda. At Xelphatol. You have to...you have to s-s-stop them.”

“Sh. All right. We will. Rest, Alisaie. Please.”

“You can't let them...”

“I promise. We'll stop them. You have to rest now. For me, okay?”

She sighed, and shut her eyes.

Alphinaud's face was taut, his eyes tortured. But he didn't follow when two knights came to shift Alisaie onto a stretcher and carry her away.

“An airship strike,” Aymeric began, but Alphinaud shook his head.

“Unfortunately, an aerial approach will only get us killed.” His voice was over-controlled, tight as a harp string, and I winced to hear it. “No. We will have to approach on the ground.”

Count Edmont nodded once. “My men are no match for a primal, but they are quite capable of handling the bird-men. I will have a contingent clear a path for you.”

“Excellent. What say you, my friend?” He turned to look at me, but his eyes were far away. “Shall we turn our attention to a matter whose conclusion we yet have the power to influence?”

I started to answer when a somber bell began to toll.

“What on earth is that?” Alphinaud asked, frowning.

“Storm,” Count Edmont answered, listening intently. “A bad blizzard – bad enough that I'm afraid no one will be traveling much of anywhere tonight.”

“What?” Alphinaud's voice squeaked a little with indignation. “Surely something can be arranged!”

The Count looked at the scholar with a mixture of understanding and pity. “We can try. Come along, then.”

He turned to walk out, with Alphinaud right behind him. Aymeric paused, looking back at me, and I waved him on. “They might need your clout,” I said quietly. “I'll go...get ready to travel, I suppose.”

He nodded once, and followed the other two men.

I found myself unable to do any packing at all. I paced my room, rearranged things mindlessly a little, and paced some more. I couldn't even concentrate enough to change my clothes. The house was quiet, and I heard when Count Edmont returned – alone.

I came out, and intercepted him in the hall. He gave me a tired smile. “As soon as the storm lifts, a special airship has been tasked to carry you to Dragonhead,” he said. “From there you can easily reach the bird-men's settlement. My men have already set up their plans, though they can't do much until the storm clears.”

“Where's Alphinaud?”

“At the infirmary, of course.”

“I'm...I'm going to go check on him. Maybe I can make him come home and sleep.”

“I won't wait up,” Count Edmont said dryly. I nodded, and left.

The streets were deserted, and not just because of the late hour. The wind was ferocious, and carried a few flurries of snow already. Even with a cloak on, the cold bit at my bones.

I made my way to the infirmary as quickly as I could, huddling in my cloak.

I stepped inside the infirmary doors. It was good to get out of the biting wind, but that was the only relief. The silence in the infirmary was unnerving to me. I hated being here. There was a constant feeling of helplessness in any sick-room, knowing that for all my skills I could never be sure I could save someone. Lives hung by a thread here, and it took a faith far stronger than my own to withstand that tension, and the despair that too often followed. I forced myself to focus on more positive thoughts, even as I made my way down the hall to the third door on the left.

The door opened at a touch, with barely a creak. As I had expected, Alphinaud was on his knees beside the bed, just as he had done for Estinien. I could see Alisaie's pale face, but she was merely sleeping very deeply. Her brother, however, was not at all at rest.

I walked inside the room, stopping a few feet from him. “Alphinaud,” I said quietly.

“What.”

I winced at his response. No longer the collected diplomat or the determined youth, his voice was hoarse. He might not have been praying for hours yet, but left to himself, he would.

“I know we're delayed,” I tried to keep my tone gentle, “but didn't you say that there was no point in such a vigil?”

“I've done what little I can to prepare for the morrow,” he rasped, not turning his head. “Until this damned storm passes, we're stuck here.”

“Yes, but shouldn't you rest?”

“I tried. I couldn't.” His voice trembled. “I can't.”

He stood up then and turned to me, and I flinched a little. His eyes were bloodshot, puffy as if he'd been beaten. His cheeks looked raw. His eyes were full of an exhausted desperation that I knew only too well.

“She's always been with me, and I knew,” he began, his tone full of self-reproach. “I _knew_ she was all right. I was so _certain_ she couldn't possibly come to any real harm. And now...”

“It's not as if you fired the arrow at her,” I reminded him. “And she's getting the very best of care.”

“Indeed. She's going to be fine,” said a new voice.

We both turned toward the door to see Captain Whitecape, the hospitalier knight. A pair of servants came in behind him, bearing a cot. The Captain held a tray in his hands.

“Since you refuse to leave, Master Alphinaud,” the Captain said, as the servants set up the cot, including extra blankets, “I must insist that you at least attempt to rest.” Before Alphinaud could protest, he added, “I have a sleeping draught prepared, if necessary.”

Alphinaud sighed, and I reached out and hugged him with one arm. “You really should at least lie down for a little,” I told him. “Rest your eyes, even if you can't sleep.”

He scrubbed at his cheek a little, looking years younger than his true age. “I suppose,” he mumbled. “Just for a moment...”

Whitecape quirked an eyebrow at me. “May I assume that you'll be more reasonable, Mistress Berylla?”

I nodded. “Now that I know he will be cared for also, I'll go get some rest myself.” I turned toward the door. I felt Alphinaud's hand on my wrist, and paused, looking back at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. I nodded, and then I left.

As I walked down the hall and outside, I sent up a fervent prayer of my own. _Keep them both safe._ I blinked away tears. _After all they've endured, please let them see better days._

“Berylla?”

I started a bit, realizing that I had been standing in the wind for a few moments. Ser Aymeric stood before me, blue eyes full of concern. He glanced from me to the door of the infirmary. “Is Mistress Alisaie...?”

“Still sleeping, but improving,” I answered, giving myself a mental shake. “They just forced Alphinaud to sleep as well, I think. It's just...this storm...”

“Aye, it promises to get a good deal worse,” he nodded. “I can understand why Master Alphinaud was rather frantic to procure a flight, though I tried to tell him it would be no use.”

“So, we must wait,” I sighed. “I'm no better at that than Alphinaud is, I'm afraid.”

Aymeric glanced around the deserted street. “Shall I walk you to Fortemps Manor?”

I gazed at him, wistfully thinking of how very pleasant our dinner earlier had been...and how I had been hoping the evening would end.

“Would it be terrible of me,” I ventured, “if I asked to come back to your house instead?”

His eyes gleamed a little, but his tone was pleasantly neutral. “I do believe my home is a bit closer. It wouldn't do to stay out in this cold for too long, after all.”

I nodded, and we walked beside each other, decorously, down streets empty of everything but growing drifts of snow. We reached his house, seeing no one else, and went inside.

Aymeric took my cloak, and hung it up on one of the hooks in the foyer, and hung his own coat. Then he took my hand, and led me upstairs.

In his room, with the door shut and locked, he wrapped me in his arms. I slid my hands across the silk brocade of his tunic, and breathed deeply. He smelled of incense and spice, and as always, he was deliciously warm.

“I've missed you,” he murmured. I pushed back from him just a little, and looked up into his eyes, my own expression serious.

“I need to ask you something,” I said quietly.

He nodded, waiting, his smile fading.

“I read those letters...” I rubbed my fingers across his forearms. “Haurchefant asked you to take care of me.” I lifted my eyes to his. “I need to know, Aymeric. Am I nothing but a legacy?”

“Gods,” he breathed. “Berylla, no.” He leaned forward, resting his temple against mine. “I wanted you that night in the bath-house...before that, even.”

“I was drunk that night.”

“Yes.”

“You could have had me then. Why did you stop?”

He pulled back, and cupped my face in his hands. “The same reason I wouldn't accept rutting with you in an alleyway,” he told me. “I wanted you aware of me, willing...” He kissed me lightly. “Eager.” Another kiss. “I want to take my time with you, to savor you.” The next kiss was deeper, hungry. “To satisfy you, completely.”

I put my arms around him as he nuzzled my neck, and shivered when he whispered in my ear.

“I want to make love to you until you can't stand, Berylla.”

“Yes,” I murmured.

Aymeric slid his hand behind my head. I eagerly leaned into the kiss, running my hands across his back. Through his shirt, I could feel his heart pounding. He cupped my breast with his free hand, and I made a little, pleased sound. The thin leather shoes I was wearing slipped off my feet easily, and I kicked them out of my way.

He lifted his head, and took my hand, to lead me over to the curtained bed. As soon as he paused, I set to unfastening the shirt, glad that there were only simple buttons to deal with, and not some sort of ties or other finicky nonsense. As it was, I had to concentrate, because my hands were already trembling with excitement.

He ran his hands through my hair as I undressed him. As soon as I could, I slid my hands under the cloth and pushed it out of the way, exposing the pale skin beneath. He shivered, delicately, as I leaned in to kiss and taste of his skin. But then he embraced me, and plucked loose the ties of my corset, pulling on the ties deftly until the vest loosened. I shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor.

He slipped his hands underneath my tunic, tugging it upward, and I had to lean back a bit as my arms lifted up. Even as I let that motion happen, though, I trailed my fingernails along his ribs.

He sucked in a breath, and I grinned a little to have gotten a reaction out of him. He smiled back, but then tugged my tunic off over my head and tossed it to land atop the vest.

He captured both my wrists in one hand, wrapping his long fingers around them gently. “Lean back just a little,” he murmured, and as I obeyed, he guided my hands to grasp the bed post just behind me. A slight breath of cool air wafted across my now exposed skin, and it was my turn to shiver; goose-bumps rose all over me.

He gazed at me for a moment, sliding his hands down my arms and then along my ribs. Then he leaned down, setting his hands and lips to my breasts. I shivered again, sighing with pleasure. His thumb caressed one nipple while he gently teased the other with his lips and his tongue. His hands were so very warm. The sword-calluses on his hands rasped against my tender flesh in the most delicious way.

I couldn't stay still. Holding on to the bed post with one hand, I arched my back and slid my other hand underneath his shirt, tugging and pushing the fabric away. He shrugged out of it, and switched to suckling on my other nipple. I groaned softly.

He lifted his head, and kissed me fiercely, even as he threw the shirt to one side in a swift, impatient motion. My heart was pounding as I returned the kiss.

Then, without warning, he slipped his hands down to cup my buttocks and lifted me. I gasped a little, then chuckled, and slid my arms around his neck. He grinned, pleased with himself, and then guided my legs upward a bit more. I willingly wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him and wiggling a little. As I ground against him, his eyes shut for a moment, and I could feel his reaction. I grinned, feeling both wicked and delighted.

He slid his hands up to my shoulder blades and crushed me to him, and this time his kiss was more than fierce, it was hungry, hard, demanding. I rode against him, and even through our clothes the feel of him made me feel wild with lust.

He laid me down on the mattress. I only loosened my legs a little to allow him to let me down, and almost immediately I tried to sit up, to reach for his trousers.

But he set his hand against my chest bone, and gently pushed me back down. “Be patient,” he told me, with a smile so slow and sweet it made me want to melt. His eyes glinted as he stroked the backs of his hands across my breasts...and then he knelt down.

He skimmed his hands along my legs, gliding them underneath my skirt. With a deft yank, he stripped my small-clothes off and tossed them aside, and then his head vanished from my view, obscured by the fabric of the skirt.

“Ah, gods, yes... _yes_...Aymeric!”

His long, clever fingers stroked me in that rhythm he knew drove me crazy. He nuzzled my thigh, then as his fingers delved even deeper, bit me. I gave a breathy shriek, and my heels thumped against his shoulder blades. He laughed, a wicked, low sound that teased the hairs on my mound.

When he withdrew his fingers, I whined in my throat, and levered myself up onto my elbows, ready to demand that he come back _this instant_.

The words died on my tongue as I watched him strip off his boots and pants. The sight of his magnificent erection made my mouth go dry.

He approached the bed, and I moved back, wriggling until I was fully on the mattress. To my surprise, he gripped my ankle. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he ran his thumb ever so lightly across the arch of my foot.

My whole leg twitched and I couldn't restrain a shriek of laughter. “No! Aymeric, don't _do_ that!”

“Ah, so you _are_ ticklish,” he purred, and did it again.

“Oh gods, you son of a – ahahaha – stop!!” I writhed, helpless with giggles. “I thought – hahaha – I thought you said Haurchefant didn't write you about this kind of stuff!”

“He didn't,” came the reply, as he set his lips to my ankle. “These were the kinds of things he told me directly.”

My giggles subsided into a gasp as he took my big toe into his mouth, and sucked gently. I groaned, feeling like the sound was dragged out of my body. “Aymeric – oh, my gods...”

I wriggled and struggled, for all the good it did me. He tormented me for a few moments more, as I giggled and gasped in turns. By the time he let go, and settled himself between my legs, I couldn't even see straight.

He kissed me, stroking my hair away from my face, and then slid his hands beneath my shoulders as he entered me.

I bit his shoulder, muffling my cries of need. The sensation as he filled me was so intense that it almost hurt. I struggled against him, trying to grind my hips, but he held me tight, his face buried in my neck.

I could feel him trembling, could feel his heart thundering, beating as fast as my own heart. He groaned.

My hands tangled in his hair, and I turned my head to whimper in his ear. “Please, please, darling Aymeric...please...don't make me wait...”

He lifted his head, looking down at me. His eyes were dark with passion, and he watched my face intently even as he began to thrust against me. His motions were as gentle and as irresistible as the tide, and I couldn't look away from him, couldn't speak anymore. I could only drown in the feelings he created in me, gasp as the tension built inside of me.

As he began to move faster, harder, I realized that I was whimpering, begging him in tiny gasps and whispers that grew more and more frantic as I came closer and closer to another orgasm.

When he dropped his head to my shoulder, and I felt his own orgasm beginning, I clung to him. If he groaned in that moment, it was drowned out by my scream. I arched against him, bucking, my body seeming determined to throw him off of me. He crushed me against him, locked in his own pleasure, driving himself into me in the last paroxysms.

When I could see again, we lay panting, twined together, both of us shaking violently.

I managed to drag my fingers through his hair, and he shifted his weight just enough to lift his head and kiss the point of my shoulder.

Then I shivered, convulsively, abruptly chilled. He leaned up on his hands, and gazed down at me. I smiled, still breathing hard, and couldn't contain a second shiver as the cool air in the room wafted against my sweat-damp skin.

He smiled back at me, a tender, amazed smile. I could feel the length of him still inside me, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized that he was still just as hard as he'd been when he began. It felt wonderful, and I couldn't help but wriggle a little under him, savoring it.

His eyes shut, and his mouth tightened a little. The sound he made was something between a groan and a low laugh, and it made me shiver again. My grin held a touch of smugness, I was pleased to make him react in such a way.

Then, to my mild disappointment, he withdrew from me, and stood up.

I sat up, leaning on my hands, and sprawling a little before I got one foot up on the edge of the bed to stabilize myself. My legs still felt very much like jelly. I pouted up at him.

“I'll return in a moment,” he promised, and walked into the bathroom. I watched him go, admiring his toned rear end, and then flopped back down onto the bed, half curling up.


	57. Keys

The heavy curtains were drawn tightly across the window, but even so I could hear the storm, and the drapes shifted in the occasional draft. I glanced at the clock near the bed, and I was mildly surprised at how late it actually was. Well past midnight. But the storm was not abating; it was getting stronger.

Aymeric came back into the bedroom, still proudly naked, drying his hands on a white towel.

I sat up, and took the towel from him when he offered. I got off the bed and cleaned myself a little, while he turned down the sheets. I dropped the towel on the pile of discarded clothes, and turned to look at him. I paused a moment, admiring the view once more.

He lay on his side, his head propped up on his arm, a half smile playing across his lips as he watched me approach. I wanted to saunter, but the room was just too chilly. I scurried to get into the bed.

He drew the covers up over both of us, and gathered me to him, so that my head rested on his shoulder. I snuggled close, pleased yet again that he was the sort of man to enjoy cuddles, and that he was incredibly warm. _Ishgardians are certainly a hardy lot_ , I thought, suppressing a giggle at that so often repeated phrase. I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder.

He ran one hand up and down my arm, and kissed my hair. I could hear the wind howling outside, despite the thick walls, and shivered.

“I thought I knew everything important to know about bad storms,” I said quietly, “But this one is...”

“Even for Ishgard, this is a killing storm,” he answered. “I'm used to the worst of our weather, but I wouldn't care to be out there right now.”

“Are...” I shifted a little, getting my feet closer to his legs. “Everyone has shelter...right?”

I felt more than heard his chuckle. “Yes. One of the more mundane details, but I made certain that even the poorest are sheltered, warm, and safe. For tonight at least.”

“Oh, good.” I held back a yawn. I didn't want to sleep. Not yet. When morning came, I would have to go – and who knew when I'd be back.

“Berylla.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to stay here with me.”

I scooted back a little so I could look into his face. “What?”

“I don't mean to say that you shouldn't go with Alphinaud tomorrow,” he clarified. “I want you to have the guest room. I want you to be able to come here any time you're in Ishgard, no matter what reason you might have for the visit.”

_He wants me to live with him_. I stared into his eyes, and bit my lip. Then, slowly, I nodded.

He smiled, looking relieved, and gathered me close once more, playing with my hair a little.

“Are you certain it will be all right?” I asked him softly. “I mean...you must have guests quite often.”

“No, it's rare for me to have anyone here.” He kissed my temple. “Though there may be some few who wish to request it nowadays, I believe I shall claim not to have room.”

I shifted a little. “Are you telling me that before all this “leader of Ishgard” stuff, no one wanted anything to do with you socially? Do you expect me to believe that there weren't women fainting at your feet every week?”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Even now that you're the most powerful man in the city? Surely there are mothers all but flinging their daughters at your head – or will be shortly.”

His fingers traced little circles on my shoulder as he answered me. “I might be powerful now, but my birth is still no better than a common knight. My power – and my politics – made me dangerous. Too dangerous for the goodly women of the nobility.” I felt, more than saw, his fleeting grin. “Not that I ever cared for social status. But not caring about it doesn't mean I don't understand it.”

“Well, then, good for you that I'm not afraid of a little danger, and that I too never gave a damn about social accomplishment,” I chuckled.

“Even now, I shan't be receiving many offers,” he said with a small yawn. “There are those who are sure I'll be assassinated before the year is out, and just as many who will remain entirely scandalized by a bastard ascending to such a position of prestige.”

I held him tighter. “Then they're fools.” Then I chuckled a little. “And their loss is my gain.”

He chuckled a little, and I let my hand drift down. He murmured appreciatively and kissed me.

I yearned against him, turning the kiss from merely warm to hungry. There was no telling when we might get another chance...and I needed more of him.

He was only too willing to oblige me.

He moved slowly, and we kept ourselves under the blankets. Even with the fire, the curtains, and everything else, it was just too cold to do otherwise. But his fingers were just as clever as before, and he took his time, driving me to the edge of orgasm again and again before easing off, leaving me groaning in sweet frustration. When he took me at last, I nearly came with the first thrust. But his motions were sure, and slow, and he kept the pace steady for far, far longer than I would ever have believed possible.

But when he finally reached his limit, all that gentleness evaporated. His body surged against mine, and he dropped his head to my shoulder. All I could see, all I could feel, was Aymeric. I began to come, gasping his name with every new wave of pleasure even as he let out a groan that sounded as if it was torn from the depths of his being.

This time, when it was over, we parted only a little, just enough to shift our bodies into positions that would let us sleep. Exhausted, I barely registered him tugging the curtains around the bed closed.

I woke slowly, noticing that though it was light out, the wind still howled. Stretching, I smiled a little, but when my eye fell on the clock and I saw the time, I sat up with a small gasp of dismay.

Aymeric was sitting at a small writing desk, wearing a robe, and looked up from the paper in his hand to smile at me. “Nothing is moving for some hours yet,” he soothed. “Be at ease.”

I rubbed my eyes. Morning wasn't my best time. Even when I felt as wonderful as I did this morning, my brain always seemed to take forever to really wake up.

He set the paper down, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. I made a little humming sound of pleasure as he stroked my hair back from my face, and he smiled. “Unfortunately,” he sighed, “I have to leave as soon as the last of the storm has passed.”

“Me, too,” I mumbled. “I'm betting Alphinaud is going to be nagging the airship attendants as soon as he's awake, if he isn't already.”

Aymeric chuckled a little in agreement. Then he stood, and scooped up my clothes from a chair near the bed.

I stretched, and grinned as I saw his expression. “Nothing quite so complimentary as a stare like that,” I commented, and let my smile turn wicked.

He shook his head as he laughed, and set the clothes on the bed. “I had better keep myself away from you,” he told me, “or neither one of us will be able to leave today.”

“And abandoning our duties would do little to maintain discretion,” I grunted, resentful but agreeing.

In silence, I dressed. I sternly told myself that we had had our fun, and it was time to get back to the real world, and the very real work for which we both were needed. Enjoying each other was all well and good, but we weren't – couldn't – call ourselves more than very good friends.

He handed me a small brass key once I was dressed.

“Why are you bothering with the guest room, anyway?” I half smiled. “Since I'll be in here given half a chance, anyway.”

He cupped my cheek tenderly, his palm warm against my skin. “I want you to have the option to leave, whenever you wish,” he answered. “Even if you had wished to do so last night.”

“Last night, I couldn't even _walk_...”

He looked so incredibly pleased with himself that I had to laugh. We shared one last, fond kiss, and then I went downstairs.

Alphinaud and I were silent on the return trip to Ishgard. Our mission had been, technically, a success – Garuda had not been summoned. But the Warriors of Darkness had shown up again, and if there had been any shred of doubt about their intentions, that doubt was obliterated.

Alphinaud had been quiet, thinking hard, ever since the Warriors had vanished.

I wasn't in any better case, for a new face had been with them – a man in a gray robe, and gray hair, with a mask over his face...

“I knew one of them,” I said quietly.

Alphinaud looked up at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

I took a deep breath. “That research I was doing – right after Estinien woke up,” I began. “I was...trying to force myself to have visions. Because I had one, and it involved the Warrior of Darkness, but it didn't make any sense...”

I saw the confusion on his face and sighed. “Basically, I thought maybe I could make myself have the same vision a second time, or make better sense of it somehow. It didn't work. But I do remember seeing a specific face. That man in gray.”

Alphinaud's brows furrowed. “He seemed strangely familiar to me as well.”

“He...I thought I might have found a place where I could ferret out information,” I told him slowly. “And that man stopped me. He was actively protecting them, in a realm beyond the ordinary world.”

Alphinaud nodded. “So he is, at the least, very practiced in the arts magical. Hard to say just what discipline he follows, without having seen him in action.”

I curled my hands into fists against my thighs. “I wish I could have learned something pertinent about them all.”

“I thought you said you did learn some things.”

I met his eyes, and then looked away. “I did. They were...a lot more personal in nature. Important, but not...not to do with this situation.”

He regarded me for a long moment. “Just how did you force yourself to have a vision, Berylla?”

“Alchemy,” I said briefly.

His eyes narrowed. “I've heard of a tea the old Sharlayan seers used, many years ago.”

“Maybe the same thing, maybe not.” I shrugged.

“Berylla...the stories I've heard about that stuff...”

“Dangerous? People die from it?” I sighed, and crossed my arms. “Obviously I didn't die.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this before?”

“Because look at you,” I gestured to him. “Even after the fact, when it's clear that I'm fine and have been fine for weeks, you're about to have a cat.”

“I am not.”

I glared at him, and he couldn't hold my gaze.

“All right, yes, it concerns me. Because you might decide to go and try it again.”

“Highly unlikely,” I scoffed. “That stuff was absolutely disgusting. Seriously, the nastiest thing I've ever had to swallow. Worse than ipecac.”

Alphinaud's laugh seemed to take him by surprise, and I grinned at him.

“All right,” he allowed, “All right. I am glad you didn't get hurt, and I won't worry over you on this matter at least. But...please, if you do decide to try that again, tell me?”

“If I ever do, the situation will be pretty damn dire,” I said, and left it at that. Not a promise, not an answer, and I knew he knew it. But he didn't argue.

The minute we returned to Ishgard, Alphinaud headed directly for the offices of the Temple Knights. “The sooner we report to Aymeric, the sooner I can look in on Alisaie.”

I accompanied him, not commenting on the grim look in his eye. I could hardly blame him for his concern, even though I truly believed that Alisaie was in no immediate danger.

Aymeric received our report calmly, and ushered us directly to the infirmary after. “Her recovery has progressed very well,” he told Alphinaud as we walked the short distance to her room. “I made certain that I was kept up to date.”

“That was very kind of you, given how many other things you have to worry about,” Alphinaud managed a grateful smile.

Aymeric smiled back, and his eyes skimmed past mine as he said, “As your friend, how could I do less?”

Alisaie was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in the rather drab long shirt and trousers that served as sufficient clothing for those recuperating. But her cheeks were no longer quite so pale, and her gray-blue eyes danced with good humor as we entered. She smiled warmly at her brother as he dashed over to her, stopping short of actually hugging her.

I hid a smile of my own, knowing that Alphinaud wouldn't much appreciate me calling him adorable right now. I traded glances with Aymeric, and saw the same look in his eyes, a silent chuckle that warmed my heart.

The room was quickly crowded as the others joined us, eager to see Alisaie with their own eyes; and also to hear what news Alphinaud and I had to share.

I took over the explanations, giving extra attention to the unsettling words of the dark Warrior. “How can they be from some other world? Utter fabrication,” Alisaie frowned.

“Maybe, maybe not.” I shivered a little. “It doesn't seem like a lie to me.”

“Well, I've discovered some equally unsettling and much less fanciful information,” Thancred offered. “There's evidence that the Ascians are making certain that the various tribes are able to get their fill of crystals, the better to ensure that the summoning of their gods will continue.”

I cursed softly. “We can't ignore that.”

“No.” Alphinaud nodded. “But that is, at least, a somewhat simpler problem.”

“Cut the supply lines,” Thancred said. “If it doesn't stop the tribes, it will at least slow them down significantly.”

Swiftly, the tasks were shared out among us. Aymeric spoke up, only a little diffident. “I will undertake to see that the Gnath no longer have a supply, but my experience in these matters is...limited.” He carefully did _not_ glance my way. “Might I ask that one of you assist me?”

But it was Thancred who replied. “I would be happy to lend you a hand.”

Aymeric nodded, and I focused my attention toward Alphinaud, so that I wouldn't make a face. Not that it mattered...but I wouldn't have objected. _Damn it, woman, keep your mind on matters at hand_ , I scolded myself.

In short order we had all split up, and as Alphinaud and I waited patiently outside for Alisaie, Aymeric and Thancred passed us. I nodded to them both, and then couldn't help but watch as Aymeric walked away. Even in the voluminous clothing of his office, the lines of him were just...

I tore my gaze away as I heard the door open behind us. Alisaie stepped out, with Tataru beside her, wearing the most smug grin I'd seen yet on that diminutive face.

I eyed the new outfit with approval. “Well, certainly no one will ever mistake you two again,” I commented.

Alisaie grinned. “Indeed. Our parents were far too fond of making us wear matching clothes, I'm afraid. I well recall one incident, where one of Alphinaud's girls came up to me and whispered...”

“ _Can we not have this conversation in front of Berylla, please?_ ” Alphinaud's cheeks had gone quite pink, and I couldn't help but laugh along with Alisaie.

“We do have a task to be about,” I allowed. “The sooner we get to it, the sooner we can worry about something else.”

“You're so optimistic,” Alphinaud muttered.

“As always,” I agreed without losing my smile.

We headed out.


	58. The Broken Heart of the Mountain

Camp Overlook, in outer La Noscea, was much the same as it had been the last time we'd had to come investigate the kobold tribe. There was a faint sense of tension, mixed with that touch of boredom that so often accompanied any duty requiring long watches and not much else.

But when we discovered – and eventually apprehended – the kobold child, the mood changed completely. The Maelstrom officer declared a high alert, and sent messages requesting that reinforcements be ready and waiting – just in case.

Meanwhile, we three – and the poor, terrified child – head straight to the tribe's caverns. If only we could head off the summoning before it happened, everything would be much, much easier. With the guidance of little Ga Bu, it almost looked like we'd managed to pull it off.

Until we reached the summoning chamber itself.

“No...” I whispered. Even hardened as I was, the pile of dead bodies was a shock. They had truly murdered their own, in their madness...

“Coke for the the furnace? You _monster_! How could you?1” Alisaie snarled at the kobold high priest.

“I... _We_ are but servants of the Lord of Crags. We are His, that He may drink of our blood and partake of our flesh─that He might draw upon the strength of His children and defend them from the tyranny of the over-dwellers!” His whiskers quivered as he spoke, and his two lackeys stamped their feet, chattering. Alisaie stepped forward, ready to thrash the lot of them.

But Alphinaud put his arm out to block her. “No, Alisaie. Not yet.”

He stepped forward, spreading his arms wide. “I understand, Patriarch. I do. Your fear, your anger, your hate. You would do anything to protect your people─anything to deliver them from despair. _Whatever it takes,_ to ensure that those who threaten you can never do so again.”

He pointed to the bodies of the dead. “But in your single-minded pursuit of this objective, you have brought suffering on your own kith and kin. You have sacrificed the lives of the very people you sought to protect! But it need not be this way, Patriarch! Renounce this bloody course! Cease your attempts to summon your god, and work with us, together, to build a lasting peace!”

But all his sincerity wasn't enough. The priest's eyes sparked with rage. “Another _peace_ to be abandoned at the over-dwellers' convenience! Oath-breakers, all of you! Liars, betrayers, oath-breakers!” He snarled at us, his mousy voice bitter as he ranted. “You _take_ and you _take_ and you _take_ , and when you have had your fill, you sue for peace. You promise that this time, this time is the last─until you grow hungry again! And when we dare to defend ourselves, you declare that this “beast tribe” cannot be suffered to live! That our god drains the land of aether, and brings naught but suffering─death, destruction, suffering upon us all!” He slammed his fists against his chest. “I will hear no more lies from you and yours, over-dweller! You've ruined your own lands─you'll not ruin ours!”

My attention was drawn away from the priest by Ga Bu, as the kobold child knelt beside the still forms of his parents. “I said I'd come for you, and I did! I'm here...I'm here...I'm here...

Say something, please. _Please...PLEASE!_ ”

My heart ached, and I shifted closer to him, thinking to pull him away, to get him out of here.

Hysterical, he tried to shake the bodies, his little voice choked with tears. “Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!”

I felt the surge in the aether before I noticed the pebbles and rocks beginning to rattle.

 _Oh no_...

“ _ **Wake up!**_ ” the little kobold wailed, shrill with grief for his murdered parents.

And the mountain trembled in reply.

Ga Bu was on his knees, his claws knotted in the fur of the dead. “I'm here,” he repeated, over and over. “I'm here, I'm here...I came to save you...wake up!”

The priest looked around in shock as the earth responded, as Titan took form. But when he bowed before the Earth Father, the massive primal crushed him instantly. The rumbling voice echoed through the cavern. “Mother...Father...I'm here...”

“Seven hells!” Alphinaud's tome was in his hands, and his toughest carbuncle materialized with a flicker of power. Titan swiped at us as I grabbed Ga Bu and practically tossed him into Alisaie's arms.

“We gotta go!” I shouted. Alphinaud's carbuncle leaped up, gnawing at Titan's face, distracting him.

Unprepared for a battle, unable to even defend ourselves from the raging primal that pain, rather than faith, had awoken, we fled.

We made it back to Camp Overlook, and stood panting for breath – except for Ga Bu, who lay on his side, curled up, utterly silent.

Alisaie knelt beside him, her fine brows creased with worry. “He's breathing, and I don't see any injuries, but I can't seem to wake him.”

Alphinaud rubbed his eyes, and hung his head. “By the Twelve, how could I be so foolish? I should have known better than to let Ga Bu accompany us, given what we were like to find.”

I didn't answer. He was right – and it didn't matter, not now. Beating our breasts about what we should have done differently wasn't going to make anything change.

Instead, I got out my axe. Alphinaud looked up at me, as if to say something. I met his gaze, and he closed his lips and merely nodded. We both knew what had to be done.

I left the twins to care for the little one, and gathered up the toughest adventurers in the area. We went back in, and destroyed the weakened but still very dangerous primal. Titan had roared in rage before. His blows were no less devastating now, but the rumbling voice now repeated, over and over, the cries of a forlorn child. “Mother, Father, I'm here...please wake up...”

I had never in my life wept for the monsters I slew. When at last Titan was banished into motes of aether, however, I wiped bitter tears from my eyes. There was no satisfaction in this victory. Only grim necessity and a grief that weighed me down, and made my steps drag as I returned to the camp.

 _Gods, what a bloody damned mess._ I wished I could lay hands on any one of the Ascians. This tragedy was wholly of their doing – even if they hadn't personally stabbed that poor child's parents, they had engineered everything that had led up to it.

“He hasn't spoken a word,” Alisaie said sadly. Ga Bu stood, listless, eyes open and yet seeing nothing. Alisaie kept her hand on his shoulder, but he seemed not to notice her.

Alphinaud's brow furrowed. “He has been like that since he regained consciousness. We believe he can hear us, but he has made no attempt to respond. He is almost certainly still in shock, but...” He sighed, and his mouth twisted, as if he'd eaten something bitter. “But we cannot discount the possibility that he succumbed to the primal's influence. Should that prove to be the case...”

Alisaie turned on him, her voice harsh. “He must be put to death, like any other thrall. Such is the Alliance's policy, yes?”

“...You have the right of it.”

Alisaie looked as if she were going to punch her brother, and Alphinaud lifted his hands. “We won't rush to conclusions. After all, we once feared that Ysayle's followers were beyond reason, and many have since laid down their arms and accepted Ishgard's peace.”

She let out a breath, and knelt down beside the little kobold again. “We can but watch, and wait, and pray.”

I watched, feeling even more depressed, as Alphinaud walked away to speak to the camp's commander. When Alisaie got up, taking Ga Bu by the hand, and walked out of the camp, I slowly followed.

She took Ga Bu to a quiet spot overlooking the lake and the weird, floating ruins above them. The stars were incredibly brilliant, in a sky with no moon or clouds, and the two of them sat there, staring up at them, in silence.

I approached, and Alisaie accepted my company. When she started to talk, I just listened.

She spoke for a long time, before turning to me with a small smile of embarrassment and asking me to tell her a bit about recent adventures.

I half smiled, and obliged her, recounting the events of the grand melee. Part of my mind also revisited the things Aymeric had said to me after, and all the things that had passed between the two of us since. So many small moments, that now held so much more weight than they had at the time...I wished fiercely that he were here now. I felt in great need of his comfort.

At last we simply sat there, myself, the young kobold, and Alisaie, contemplating the silent stars and thinking our own thoughts.

I noticed Alphinaud standing some yards away, mostly out of sight, and smiled. _Honestly, he needs to stop worrying about appearances, and hug his sister already._

I lay on my bedroll in the camp, staring up at the sky. Alisaie had taken her own things to a quiet corner of the camp, up against a small bit of cliff, and had Ga Bu with her. I wondered if she had curled up around the little fellow, or if she would spend the whole night in vigil over him. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to sleep, and _I_ wasn't a traumatized child...

A sound near me made me turn my head. I sat up, surprised to see Alphinaud. He had a blanket over one arm and a bottle in his hand.

He handed me the bottle, and I looked at the label, which read “Lorelei” – a very strong Lominsan whiskey. I looked back up at him as he shook out the blanket and threw it around his shoulders, and then flopped onto the ground beside me.

“It's not Ishgardian beer,” he said, gesturing to the whiskey. “But I feel that I'm going to need help sleeping, and I noticed you were still awake...”

I opened the bottle, and took a swig; the whiskey was smooth as it slid down my throat, and curled in my stomach like a warm cat. Alphinaud held his hand out, and I gave the bottle back to him.

He took a large swallow of his own, and I licked my lips. The whiskey was strong, but not as strong as the sudden realization that if we were going to share the bottle, our mouths were indirectly touching...

_Wow, Berylla. Getting fluttery over indirect kisses. What, are you fourteen now? Chill._

Still, I didn't murmur a word of protest as we passed the bottle back and forth. By the time Alphinaud had had four swallows of whiskey, and set the bottle off to one side, I was pleasantly floating. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to just lie flat and stare up at the sky. The most natural thing, for Alphinaud to curl up next to me, his arm across my belly, his head on my shoulder. For my fingers to run through his hair.

I made myself stop.

“Alphinaud.”

“Hm?”

“You should sleep.”

“That's what I was planning to do.”

I sighed. “I don't want you to go, but you probably should.”

He was silent for a long time. “Is it so upsetting to you, for me to be here beside you?”

I couldn't make myself answer. He shifted, and leaned up on one arm to peer at my face. Whatever he saw there made him smile.

He lay back down, settling his back against my ribs, pillowing his head on my bicep. “If you truly don't want me here, feel free to make me move.” I felt the words against my skin as much as heard them. “But if you can't trust yourself with both of us fully clothed...”

I pretended I hadn't heard that second, sleepy mumble, and shut my eyes.

Morning arrived, and we had to take our leave. Alphinaud was gone by the time I opened my eyes, and I was just as glad. When he acted as if we hadn't slept beside each other, I didn't breathe a word, and when he asked me to locate Alisaie, I nodded silently instead of answering. _For once, my reputation as the silent type makes my life easier._

Alisaie was sitting with Ga Bu out on the airship dock, and looked up as I approached. “Ah, let me guess: it's time to leave, isn't it?” She stood, dusting off her clothes. “My apologies for disappearing again. If it is any consolation, I have already packed my things.”

“I don't think I'm the one in need of consolation,” I said. Ga Bu just stood there, as blank-faced and silent as he had been since yesterday. I wished I knew what to do, what to say.

Alphinaud and the camp's commander walked up to us. Alisaie's shoulders tensed, but all Alphinaud said was, “How is he?”

She straightened her coat a little, and faced them. I didn't fail to notice how she eased her body between the two men and the little kobold. “Brother. Commander. Something tells me you are not solely here out of concern for his welfare. But to answer your question, there has been no change. He will not speak or eat─I'm not even sure if he slept. If he did, he seems none the better for it. He just...shuffles about with that same expression on his face.”

She shook her head, and leveled a steely glance at the commander. “You will look after him, won't you, Commander─and treat him with _every kindness?_ He's still in there. I know it. Beneath the anguish and the despair, he's still fighting with all his heart. He _deserves_ to be given that chance. Until he comes back to us─until we know for certain what has become of him.”

 _And what will you do, Alisaie, if he says no?_ I wondered. _Would you actually drag this poor child along with us?_

Fortunately, the commander didn't even hesitate. “Aye, aye, you needn't worry. If he hadn't risked his neck to warn us and help you secure the better part of the crystals, this could've turned out a damn sight worse than it did. We'll not soon forget that, and nor will Maelstrom Command.”

She relaxed, minutely, and nodded once.

Then she knelt and gave the poor child the lightest of hugs. “I'm so sorry, Ga Bu. I truly am. You should never have been made to... And I know I cannot possibly understand...” She sighed. “Maybe there is nothing I can do or say. The pain, the anger...the helplessness...” She took his little hand in hers. “Hold fast to the memories of better times. Remember them as they were. And when it hurts so much your heart feels fit to burst, let it burst. Let it burst, and fill up again with your love for them. And never, ever forget.”

Alphinaud's eyes met mine, and for an instant my eyes stung with tears, and I could swear I smelled machine oil. She was speaking from her own pain, her own loss, and we both knew it. Alphinaud looked away, and I reached for Alisaie's shoulder.

Ga Bu spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I...I will remember them. And you, Alisaie. Thank you...”

The commander held out a hand. “Come along, little one.”

I felt the sting of tears once more as we watched the two of them walk away. Even Alphinaud's eyes were suspiciously misty, as he set a hand on his sister's other shoulder.

“Have faith. Your words reached him. In time, he will recover.” His mouth tightened. “And those who orchestrated these events will be made to answer for their crimes.”

Her eyes were still damp, but her expression was hard and cold. “A thousand times over, aye. There will be a reckoning.”


	59. Ruin of Worlds

We arrived at the Waking Sands, and Urianger greeted us. He'd already heard about Titan, since Alphinaud's first act in the morning had been to contact him. “By the grace of the Twelve and your most valiant efforts, the people of Limsa may rest easy.”

“I should like to think so, yes,” Alphinaud sighed. “Though we failed to prevent the Lord of Crags from manifesting, we did succeed in weakening him, enabling our friend to dispatch him before the Warriors of Darkness could make matters worse. 'Twas by no means an unmitigated success, but it will have to suffice.”

“Then let us speak of another matter─one which weigheth heavy on my lady's mind.” He nodded towards Alisaie, who stood with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. “As thou didst request, I sought out The Gerun Oracles, that we might better understand the aims of the Warriors of Darkness. Though their copious use of allegory defieth any single interpretation, the oracles paint a most disturbing picture─one of worlds parallel to our own, apart yet linked, reduced to ruin with every Umbral Calamity...”

I cocked my head, thinking back on what Minfilia – or the Word of the Mother – had told me.

“ _Seven times have they succeeded_.” Alphinaud quoted, adding, “Then of ten and three, only six worlds remain.”

“Aye. All is as my lady Minfilia spake unto thee.” Urianger nodded. “As for what becometh of these reflections when they and the Source are rejoined...” His voice deepened, into the tones he used for quoting esoteric passages.

“ _Frail flesh undone in Umbral fires,  
Each soul surrend'reth to Her call,  
To flow unto the endless sea,  
There to endure as one and none.” _

Alisaie's eyes widened. “Then...then if the Warriors of Darkness succeed, everyone in their world will _die?_ ”

Urianger's mouth drew down as he nodded. “In essence, aye.”

In the back of my mind, something about the way he spoke those words triggered a memory. But it was murky, and too slippery for me to grasp right now.

“The verse The verse speaketh of the renunciation of the flesh, and subsequent return to the Lifestream. However, this fate may yet be preferable to the alternative, for if the First were to fall to transcendent Light in the manner the Warriors of Darkness described, it would give way unto a void wherein none may know either life or death. Far better to die, they reason─for in death there is life. The essence of a soul which returneth unto the Source may be born anew. Saved. Such, at least, is their belief, I surmise.”

Alphinaud's face turned pale. “If that is true then...gods. No one should ever have to make such a choice.”

We all fell silent for a long moment. I struggled to think how the Warriors of Darkness were even sane, with such pressures on them. Literally every life on their world depended on what they accomplished here on our world. _No wonder they're cranky._

I noticed Alisaie frowning deeply at Urianger. _Wonder what's going on there?_

Urianger seemed to notice too, and spoke, changing the subject. “I would share with thee another recent discovery. 'Twould seem that several sizable shipments of crystals have been delivered into the hands of certain Ala Mhigan parties.”

Alphinaud's attention was immediately diverted. “Ala Mhigans? Strange... And you believe this to be the work of the same Ishgardian smugglers who supplied the beast tribes?”

“I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. And lest thou wonder at their motive, I would remind you that the Ascians did once attempt to bring about the summoning of Rhalgr. The individuals who took receipt of these shipments are refugees belonging to a group devoted to the cause of Ala Mhigan liberation. It may also interest thee to know that their Ishgardian suppliers appear to be none other than the remnants of Eline Roaille's network of spies.”

_How does he know all this if he's been up to his pointy ears in ancient books of oracular allegory? Well...maybe he just doesn't sleep much._

“Surely you jest... And yet...it is not so surprising. Bereft of leadership and hunted by the Alliance, I can well imagine such villains being desperate enough to conspire with the Ascians.” Alphinaud snorted. “Assuming they even know─or care─who their new employers are.” He waved one hand. “All of which is irrelevant. Forgive me. We must seek out the Resistance group which received the crystals without delay. Berylla, Alisaie─will you come with me to Little Ala Mhigo?”

“As if you have to ask,” I nodded.

Alisaie nodded as well. “Yes, of course. I should like to hear what they have to say for themselves. Firsthand.” Her last word was said with a hint of venom in it, and once more she aimed a frown at Urianger.

But the robed scholar merely bowed slightly and said only, “May you ever walk in the light of the Crystal.”

We headed toward the door. In the hallway, Alphinaud's link-pearl chimed.

“Alphinaud, Alisaie, Berylla─are you three listening? Good. I have tidings. The Temple Knights raided the smugglers' warehouse less than an hour ago. A cursory interrogation of the prisoners yielded confirmation that they were in the employ of─and I hope you are sitting down─a man in black robes.”

I snorted.

“Then you have them? And the crystals too?” Alphinaud asked.

“What few remained, aye. Regrettably, it would seem they dispatched one final shipment in the hours before we struck. 'Twas bound for Little Ala Mhigo, we are told, where it will be received by members of a local Resistance group. Since Ser Aymeric's men no longer have need of my services, I have a mind to head that way.”

“As do we, by happy coincidence. We learned of the shipments but a few moments ago.”

My shoulders tensed. _Yes, we did...and how did Urianger know...?_

“Hah! And there I was thinking I might finally be one step ahead of the Warrior of Light and her little helpers.” Thancred laughed. “Wait a moment! There is more! And I defy you not to be surprised by this revelation. The leader of the Ishgardian smugglers was formerly in the employ of one Eline Roaille─the infamous Ivy herself!”

Alphinaud smiled a little, and started to answer, when Alisaie interrupted him, her tone sharp.

“Thancred─with whom else have you shared this information?”

“About the smugglers? No one. As I think I mentioned, the raid was less than an hour ago. I was planning to contact Y'Shtola next, but is there someone else you would have me notify first?”

“No,” Alisaie's voice was cold. “There isn't.”

She stalked out of the Waking Sands, while her brother stared after her.

“What in the world has gotten into her? It is twice now that we have sought Urianger's aid, and twice she has treated him as if he were a stranger.” He looked over at me, his cornflower blue eyes worried. “The Archon was one of Grandfather's most dedicated pupils, and spent as much time at the Leveilleur estate as we did. He's practically a member of the family! Truth be told, I struggle to recall a day from my childhood when I did not see the three of them laughing together.”

I shrugged, reluctant to mention my own sense that something wasn't quite right – but not with Alisaie. After all, what did I have to go on except a mangled vision and a murky memory?

Alphinaud blew out a breath. “If this continues, I may have to raise the matter. Later, though─Little Ala Mhigo awaits.”

We walked outside. Alisaie stood staring out at the water, and I let Alphinaud go to fetch our birds, while I walked over to her.

She was muttering to herself as I approached. “I will get to the bottom of this...” She looked up at the sound of my footstep, and shook her head. “Oh, forgive me. I was... It has been a long day. Did you have something to say?”

“Are you all right? You seem a bit...upset about Urianger.”

“Urianger? Oh, I... I've always struggled to understand what's going on in his head. Now more than ever.” She looked back out at the water for a moment, then met my eyes. “Listen, Berylla─if anything should happen, it should be me who... Just know that I am prepared to do what must be done.” I blinked at her, but she dusted her hands along her pants leg, just as if she hadn't been completely cryptic. She walked off towards the town gates, leaving me to trail behind her, wondering just what she intended to do...and to whom.

After an hour of riding in the Thanalan heat, we reached the desert village at Little Ala Mhigo, where Thancred was to meet us. He wasn't there when we arrived, but I wasn't really surprised. Given his problems with aether, he would be forced to take the longer methods of travel – airship and riding bird – instead of being able to pop about via the aetherytes.

I fanned myself as we tied our birds. “Gods, I'm never going to love being here,” I muttered. “How does anyone ever wear actual _clothes_ in this heat? I'd almost rather be naked and sun burned.”

Alphinaud regarded me, his mouth twitching. “What a thought,” he murmured.

I glowered at him, and Alisaie rolled her eyes.

“Right, then,” she said. “Since we have no idea when Thancred might arrive, I suggest we see what information we can gather in his absence.”

Alphinaud cleared his throat. “So, to review: we are reliably informed that members of the Ala Mhigan Resistance operating here have taken receipt of several large shipments of crystals, our task being to ascertain who and why. Given the size of the settlement, I find it hard to believe that anyone here could be wholly unaware of the Resistance's movements. The challenge, of course, will be finding individuals who are both able and willing to share such information with outsiders.” He glanced at me. “It would seem sensible to divide our forces. Berylla, why don't you question the residents in the eastern half of town? Alisaie and I will do the same in the west, and afterwards we can rendezvous here to share our findings.”

I nodded once, and we split up.

Half an hour later, we met up again. The look on Alphinaud's face matched my own – grim. I remembered all too well how the youths of this tiny village had gotten riled up. And here it was happening again...but older and wiser heads were involved. A lot of them.

“I suppose I should ask what you learned, but I think I already know.

...This Griffin seems to be the leader of a newly formed faction within the Resistance. The Masks. Yet despite their growing popularity, no one seems to know much about them─only that they are the most aggressively militant group to join the movement in recent memory. Indeed, many claim their commitment to the cause of Ala Mhigan liberation is unrivaled. We can but hope their revolutionary fervor is never channeled in the direction of a primal.”

I nodded fervently. “It seems likely to me that they're crazed enough to accept advice from a damn Ascian.”

Alisaie tilted her head. “To hear people speak of him, the Griffin sounds like a man in his middle years. But if that's the case, just what has he been playing at for the past two decades? If he's so devoted to the cause, why has he waited until now to do something about it? Unless, of course...he hasn't.” She frowned.

Alphinaud frowned. “Though I feel confident that this is the group which received the crystal shipments, we yet lack proof. Before taking any action, I would speak with the settlement's leader to confirm my suspicions─and perhaps enlist his help while I am about it.” He gestured for me to precede him. “Given that you and Gundobald are already acquainted, perhaps it would be best if you took the lead. Shall we?” As we headed out, he said quietly behind me, “Naught would please me more than to be wrong about all of this.”

“Same,” I muttered.

Gundobald watched us approach, his bushy eyebrows drawn down. His smile was cautious. “Much as it pleases me to see you again, Seahawk, I cannot help but wonder if I should be worried. I hear you and yours have been asking questions.”

I stood before him, head high, and shrugged a little. “We're curious about this new feathered friend you all seem to have.”

He laughed a little. “The Griffin? Aye, I know of him, as do we all. He and his Masks have become a leading faction within the Resistance. Though there was suspicion at first given his secretive ways, he quickly proved himself a charismatic and capable commander. Men are drawn to his passion and his vision─they truly believe that he has what it takes to lead them to victory. Even I cannot help but admire the man for what he's accomplished.”

Something about his words tickled the back of my mind. But Gundobald wasn't done talking.  
“I have not forgotten Wilred. I was blind to the danger of his ambitions...and you were not.” He sighed. “The Griffin will soon deliver a speech to our people at the Sunken Temple of Qarn. Go and see him with your own eyes, weigh his words with your own heart.”

He took my hand in the warrior's grip of his people. His voice was low, meant for my ears alone. “The young ones were led astray once. Help us ensure that it never happens again. For their sake...and for Wilred's.”


	60. Reunion

“It is a pity Thancred is not here to join us,” Alphinaud murmured. His sister shrugged.

“I will wait here for him. You two go on.” She took up a stance near the entrance to the village, crossing her arms. “If he's taken the scenic route, leaving us to do all the hard work, I shall treat him to a piece of my mind,” I heard her mutter.

“Here,” I dug in my pack, and drew out three long scarves. They had once been colorful head-cloths, but now they were old and faded and a little raggedy. Alisaie gave me an odd look, and I explained, “If nothing else it'll help keep the sun off your head; and hopefully it will make it harder for folks to point you out. These things look like what most everyone else is using.” I gave the second cloth to Alphinaud, who nodded and tossed it around his shoulders.

Alisaie shrugged, and put hers on, somehow managing to arrange it so that it looked altogether elegant. For a half second, I wished she had been around to give me clothing advice before my dinner with Aymeric.

The last time I'd been near the temple ruins, they had been mostly left to the wildlife and the strangely feral stone golems that seemed to assemble of themselves from the rubble. Not so today. I could hear the buzz of conversations and the shuffle of feet, and the golems were nowhere to be seen. They usually retreated to the higher parts of the ruins when there were big groups, if I recalled correctly. I glanced at Alphinaud, and nodded to him. Both of us slipped our head-cloths on, covering our hair and the lower parts of our faces.

We stepped past the pillars and into the big space in front of the main steps. Once, this had been some form of plaza – in its heyday, visitors must have walked down the avenue lined by pillars and stopped in sheer awe at the massive temple that seemed carved by the gods' own hands, right out of the living rock of the sandstone cliffs. Now – while some might still be awed, most would only see a tumble-down ruin, dangerous and dusty, picked over by countless treasure hunters.

But the grand stairs that had once led up to the temple's main facade were still clear, and the plaza was cleared of debris. The acoustics remained excellent, and the man standing at the top of the steps made the most of them as he cleared his throat and began to talk.

I listened with half my attention, and scanned the crowd. Most of them were the folk who scraped by, barely able to make a living at whatever odd jobs might be scrounged up in the city – or surviving on the scant hunting to be hand in this dried up part of the world. Hungry, in many senses of that word – many of them were Ala Mhigan natives, driven out of their home by the Empire. Angry, frustrated, desperate people, starving for any hint of the dignity they had been denied for so long.

And this bastard in his fanciful mask played on their anger, their frustration, their desperation. His words fed and watered their hatred. I didn't need to listen to his promises to know they were lies. Something about the phrasing made me pause and glance at the speaker warily – but his build was wrong, the shoulders too narrow, the accent not quite right. He sounded a lot like Ilberd – but I was certain it was not he who stood there exhorting the crowd.

I didn't like him, this masked man claiming to have just the right plan to take back Ala Mhigo. He was just as dangerous as any monster. More so, for he would surely cause even more deaths, dragging people into his mad scheme.

Then my eyes caught sight of a far more familiar mask, in the crowd.

_Is that...?!_

Yda and Papalymo were casually standing in the crowd. I elbowed Alphinaud sharply, and he looked over at me with a scowl of annoyance. I pointed, and when he saw them, his scowl melted into a look of elation.

We moved through the edges of the crowd until we could get their attention. Yda saw me first, and her mouth formed a perfect little “Oh!”

The four of us faded back, out of the plaza, and out of sight of the crowd.

The first thing I did was wrap Yda in a huge hug. She returned it with interest, and I grunted as she nearly cracked my ribs for me. I welcomed the pain of it, in fact, because otherwise I would have embarrassed us both by bursting into tears. “Of all the places to meet! It has to be fate!”

Alphinaud greeted Papalymo with a great deal more restraint, and I settled for just a big grin for the Lalafellin scholar. “Words cannot express how glad I am to see you both alive and well.”

Yda hugged Alphinaud's shoulders. “And you! Though it was pretty obvious you and Berylla would be fine.”

I exchanged a look with Alphinaud, knowing how “fine” we'd actually been...but now wasn't the time to give all those details. It wasn't the time, either, to ask why the two of them hadn't found some way to contact _someone_ in the Scions.

“What exactly have you two been doing all this time?” Alphinaud asked, settling for the simplest question.

“Repaying a favor. After the banquet, we had no choice but to flee Uldah, and we would not have been able to do so without the aid of some old friends from the Resistance.” Papalymo shrugged a little. “After all, the Crystal Braves never had a realistic chance of capturing any of the Scions, divided as they were and distrusted by the better part of Eorzea.”

I saw Alphinaud bite his tongue, and spoke up. “In truth, the Braves didn't catch any of us. Other things happened, but we'll talk about it later.”

Yda said, “Our friends smuggled us out of the city and sheltered us in Little Ala Mhigo, all at great risk to themselves. Obviously, we couldn't let that go unacknowledged, so we offered to help them out with their operations for a while.”

Papalymo nodded. “When we learned of the Scions' exoneration─that Lolorito had severed all ties with the Crystal Braves, and that General Raubahn had been reinstated─we resolved to make contact. But having long since discarded our linkpearls as a precautionary measure, our options were rather limited. To make matters more complicated, we were embroiled in a delicate operation at the time, leaving me with little choice but to entrust a letter to a courier. I gather from your puzzled expressions, however, that you never received it.”

“No, we didn't,” I shrugged.

Yda adjusted her visor a little. “To be honest, we thought this might happen. While the Masks are happy to let the refugees spread the word within the community, they're pretty strict about communicating with outsiders. Oh, and we also heard a rumor that the Griffin doesn't want us meddling in his affairs.”

Alphinaud's eyebrows shot up. “The Griffin mistrusts the Scions of the Seventh Dawn? Curious. It is well-known that we are no friends to the Empire. One would think the man we saw beseeching all and sundry to join his cause would welcome our support.”

“Ah,” Papalymo held up one hand. “I should say that the man you saw was not in fact the Griffin, but an impersonator. And a talented rabble-rouser, to boot. It would not surprise me if he were responsible for the majority of these public appearances.” He grimaced. “As you may have gathered, the Griffin is an extremely cautious and distrusting man who has made every effort to conceal his identity. Even when we participated in a raid under his direct command, we were not permitted to approach him.”

“It's hard to know what to make of it all,” Yda grumbled. “The secrecy, the impersonators, the masks...”

She glanced around at our bemused expressions. “What!? It's not as if I'm making all of _you_ wear one! And mine only covers _half_ my face. It's completely different!” She stamped one foot, and tossed her head a little. “ _Anyway_ , when we heard the Griffin was due to give a speech, we thought it might be a good opportunity to get a better sense of the man behind the─uh, to get a better sense of the man.”

Papalymo, who had been covering a laugh, cleared his throat. “For all the good it did. And now you have heard the whole of it. But tell me – what prompted you to take an interest in the Griffin?”

In a few terse sentences, Alphinaud laid out the situation for them – the thefts, the involvement of Ascians, and the crystals.

“ _Summoning?!_ ” Yda exclaimed. “You're not serious! I can't believe it.”

Papalymo rubbed his chin. “The Resistance would never even entertain such a ridiculous plan, but the Griffin... Well, the man is an enigma. I cannot say with any confidence what he would or would not do.” He looked up at me, his brows knitted. “What I can say, however, is that the speech we heard today was not the first to make reference to a “power” capable of defeating the Empire. The Masks have made many such claims of late. I confess, I had assumed it to be mere bluster, but in the context of the shipments of which you spoke, it is not impossible that they are alluding to a primal.”

Yda struck her hands together. “Whatever it is, we'll find out together─and if anyone tries to stop us, they'll answer to me!”

“Indeed.” Papalymo eyed me keenly. “That is, assuming you'll have us?”

“ _Have_ you?” I laughed. “If you hadn't offered, I was going to damn well tie you both up and _carry_ you back with us!”

The first thing was to find out what we could about the true intentions of the Griffin. Papalymo put together a simple plan – Alphinaud and I would pretend to be out-of-work adventurers, down on our luck and looking for a good cause and a modest amount of pay. Meanwhile, Papalymo would paint a lovely picture of us to the Griffin's people, and thus we'd be granted an interview.

“At which point do we corner him and beat the snot out of him?” I asked.

“We will only use violence as a last resort,” Papalymo chided me. “Is it my imagination, or are you rather more rugged and world-weary than when last we spoke?”

I showed him my teeth. He shook his head, and handed over a sack of coin, that we might obtain appropriate disguises.

Alphinaud's expression as we stood around in our new “finery” made me laugh a little. I was no stranger to the plain, rough-woven stuff we had on; no stranger to the peculiar stenches either, that had been rather artfully worked into the cloth to add authenticity. Poor Alphinaud looked uncomfortable and just a little miserable, and I had to fight to hide my giggles.

But when we heard footsteps approaching, I had no trouble at all dropping my smile and putting on the air of a hard-bitten sell-sword. After all, it wasn't that many months ago that this really had been my lot in life – going from job to job, never really certain when I'd get my next meal. It made one cautious, and yet very willing to take on certain risks...

The interview was less than thrilling – not least because one of the Griffin's own bodyguards recognized me. Still, it wasn't a total failure – we did learn for certain that the primal of fire was soon to be summoned.

We broke up our little party; Yda and Papalymo went to pack up their things. I watched the Griffin go, rubbing absently at the back of my neck. Something about him just set my teeth on edge, and yet – as with the man in the gray robe that walked with the Warriors of Darkness – I couldn't quite put my finger on why he bothered me so much.

As we made our way back to the village, Alphinaud spoke. “Do you really remember that fellow?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“How can you remember every name and face...?” Then he waved his own question away. “Forgive me. It isn't as if it matters.” He touched my arm. “I wanted to talk to you. About...last night.”

“About you attempting to get me drunk?”

He shook his head. “That wasn't my intention. I just...felt in need of comfort.”

“You could've just _asked_.” I tugged on my hair a little. “Hugs are still allowed, remember?”

He tilted his head up at me. “So you _were_ tempted.”

“Damn it, Alphinaud.” I turned away from him. “I thought I made myself clear to you about this. Why are you pushing me about it?”

His arms went around my waist, and I felt his head against my back. “I won't do it again,” he said quietly. “I recognized what I'd done when I woke up. Truly, I didn't intend to tempt you or to make you unhappy.”

“I can forgive you, if you can just...back down a little.”

“So you're not going to tell me I can't travel with you?” I felt him smile before he let me go.

“Why would I do that? No point in dwelling on past mistakes or whatever.” I started walking again, and he fell into step beside me.

“I have long admired how you live in the present. How you focus on the problems at hand and always keep moving forward. So let us keep moving forward together.”

“Together.” I liked the sound of that. Probably a little too much.

Alisaie greeted the two of us, looking peeved. “He's _still_ not here. Why couldn't he just use the aetherytes?”

Alphinaud's brow wrinkled and we exchanged a glance. “You change, I'll tell her,” I said.

He went off, and I explained to Alisaie about Thancred. “You mean to tell me,” she demanded, “that Thancred carried me bodily all the way to Ishgard?”

“Well, no,” a voice drawled. “I did have a bird to strap you onto.”

I couldn't help but laugh as she went pink in the cheeks.

Thancred grinned a little. “Kept you waiting, eh? My apologies.”

I waved my hand a little. “It's all right. We've a surprise for you.”

Alphinaud came back just about then, with Yda and Papalymo not far behind him.

Yda waved at Thancred, and his jaw dropped.

After a necessarily brief round of glad greetings, Thancred stepped back and shook his head a little. “You mean to tell me that while we were worrying ourselves sick, Yda and Papalymo were here all along? Well, Y'Shtola will be relieved. And also angry. Mainly angry, I should think.”

Yda shrugged. “Well, we'll just have to deal with that later. Right now...”

Thancred nodded. “Yes, right now. Am I correct that there are crystals to be collected?”

Papalymo nodded. “Yda and I are to investigate the camp of the Masks to confirm that they are not holding more crystals, but our latest intelligence indicates that the beast tribe has most of them.”

“We go _now_ ,” I declared. “If I have to, I'll smash every crate of crystals in the Amal'jaa camp and hamstring 'em all.”

And so the four of us – Thancred, Alisaie, Alphinaud and I – hustled south, straight into the heart of the canyon stronghold where Thancred had tracked the last shipment of crates. But our way in was uncontested, and even as we set foot into the great crater that the tribe called the Bowl of Embers, my hackles rose at how silent and empty the place was.

“This isn't right...”

“Well. The saviors of Eorzea,” the dark Warrior sneered. “Slow as ever.”

Alphinaud's voice was taut with anger. “Will you never learn?” he demanded.

“You're right,” the Warrior sighed, hefting his axe. “Tormenting beast-men, and all this rot. It's a bit much. And we don't have the leisure.”

His eyes met mine, and I felt my skin tighten. “Killing the Warrior of Light on the other hand...that would soon plunge Eorzea into chaos, wouldn't it?”

Alphinaud and Thancred reached for their weapons, even as the rest of the dark clad adventurers lifted theirs.

“One life for one world, a fair exchange wouldn't you agree?”


	61. One Life for One World

“Invoke the power of thy crystal!” Urianger shouted to me.

I fumbled it out of my pouch and held it aloft. Power poured out of me and into the crystal, as I focused on a desperate prayer. _If ever I needed you, Mother, I need you now! Help us!_

With a sound like chimes, the crystal levitated off my hand, and burst into brilliant white light.

The five other crystals, floating above the hands of the Warriors of Darkness, chimed as well, shuddering, and then blazing into life as well. I heard their surprised gasps as the light swelled outward, engulfing us all.

A place of stars...the aetherial sea.

I opened my eyes, and knew where I was. I had seen this place many times, and knew the pattern of solid light that I stood upon – my own personal sigil, my place in this place beyond places.

The surprising part was finding Thancred, Urianger, Alisaie, and Alphinaud all still standing beside me.

Across from us, our five opponents stood gazing about. They didn't look surprised. _They've seen this place before_.

I knew it, not because of their expressions but because abruptly I could _feel_ them. All of them – and my friends. _I've never been here before with other people...does it go both ways?_

Alphinaud's surprise was vocal. “What is this place?”

I heard the Word of the Mother speaking softly. “Such sorrow...”

Thancred went stiff. “It can't be...”

Urianger lifted his arms and his voice, and begged for Minfilia to appear. I had all I could do to hold in my feelings. I was certain, at least, that what I could sense, the others could not, or they would have noticed my rage.

An orb of light began to glow in the center of the sigil, and the voice strengthened, and became something real. “Though many are lost, there are those we can yet save...those I can yet save.”

Alphinaud gasped as she took form. “Minfilia!”

She smiled at him, her eyes glowing with the same prismatic blue as the Mother Crystal. But she turned to face the Warriors of Darkness.

“Blessed children of the First. The light of your world has grown blinding in its radiance, but it is not yet absolute. I will go to your world, and take unto myself the Light which rises even now to drown it, as Darkness once did drown another.”

Their leader took his axe in both hands. I felt his grief, even as he choked out words of rage. “ _Now_ you deign to answer our prayers?! I will suffer this farce no longer!”

He swung, the blade of his axe aimed squarely for Minfilia's head. She lifted her hand, a languid and elegant motion. Without a sound, he was stopped in his tracks, his weapon shuddering as he tried to complete his attack. Light surrounded him, gently imprisoning him.

 _An Ascian would have knocked him flying_ , I thought, remembering Nabriales.

Minfilia spoke, her voice resonant but somehow grounded, and full of sympathy. “As the Ascians must serve as instruments of Zodiark's will, so too must others carry out the will of Hydaelyn. Because of the boon you have granted Her, She has grown strong enough to set me free, that I might serve as Her emissary. Your suffering, your sacrifice, your supplications...She has heard all. We will not let the First fall to Light.”

He relaxed, and the light around him faded as her power released him.

She turned to face us all, and her voice was more like her own, so much so that I heard Alphinaud repress a sob. I bit my lip.

“Thank you, Urianger,” she said, “for bringing everyone here. It fills my heart with joy to look upon the faces of my friends once more.”

Urianger bowed his head. I felt the guilt and regret, could almost see the emotions rolling off him. His voice was low as he explained how he had treated with the Ascians, how he had set the Warriors of Darkness on a path that led to them trying to kill me...and more importantly, _why_. “Yet I knew from the beginning,” he finished, not meeting anyone's eyes, “that this salvation would not come without sacrifice, for the instrument of the First's deliverance would of necessity be required to journey thither...and there to remain.”

Alphinaud rounded on him. “You orchestrated all of this, not to save her, but to send her away?!”

Urianger sighed, and looked into Minfilia's crystal eyes. “One life for one world. Such was the bargain, and you the coin, though it were not mine to spend.”

I wanted to open my mouth and volunteer myself. But I knew that it wasn't possible. That Minfilia was the only one of us who _could_ answer this call.

She looked at all of us in turn, and her eyes settled last on Alphinaud's face. I felt him crying, though his eyes were dry. Thancred, silent and still at my right shoulder, was weeping as well. Alisaie was mostly confused, and distressed as much for her brother as anything – of us all she had barely known Minfilia, after all...

My own heart felt as if it might crack under the weight of all the feelings around me.

Minfilia's smile was sweet, and sad. “Each and every one of you knows my heart. If this be the price I must pay, I pay it gladly.”

Thancred spoke. “You would go alone, then?” I shut my eyes at the pain in his voice.

She faced him, and her voice was a caress. “My dearest Thancred. You who have always watched over me. I am truly grateful for all you have done on my behalf, as would my father be. Your kindness, your compassion, your love...these are your gifts to me, and our gifts the them, forming a bond which transcends time and space.”

His voice cracked as he answered. “Sometimes I forget you are not the child I once knew. Make me proud.”

She smiled at him, and turned once more, her eyes resting on me, and Alphinaud. “Long have I watched you,” she told us. “Watched as you nurtured and kept safe the light of the dawn.”

She lifted her hand, and a broken staff materialized. “The dark recesses of this world hide untold secrets and dangers. Thus do I entrust to you Tupsimati. I pray you, keep to the path, that you may never have need of it.”

I accepted the staff, and tucked it into my belt. My fingers reached for Alphinaud's and tangled with his for an instant, giving and receiving a tiny drop of comfort.

The Warrior spoke. “If you would have us place our trust in you,” he said, “then I would ask a favor. Take us with you. Take us home.”

Minfilia's smile was like a lantern lighting up. One last time, she lifted her hand. The five strangers began to glow, and their bodies to fade. Suffused in that light, the Warrior met my eyes.

“I tell you this, as one fool to another. Light, Dark, it doesn't matter. What matters is how you choose to use them. We made our choice, and you see what came of it. So please...” His smile hurt me. “Forge a different path. Seize a better fate.”

I felt the tears roll down my cheeks as he became an orb of light.

Minfilia faced us once more. Alphinaud sniffled, crying openly.

“A strange feeling,” she mused. “So many times have I watched you depart, my heart filled with worry, and ever did you return to me in triumph. Someday, when I have found a way to free this star from Her sorrow, I promise you...” Her form began to fade away. “I promise, I shall repay the favor.”

Then there was nothing before us but Light, swallowing the stars and covering my eyes.

I came to, on my knees in the sand outside the Bowl of Embers. Our foes were gone. The primal had not been summoned. The Amal'jaa would be reeling for weeks from the damage done to them by the Warriors of Darkness. Our mission was complete.

I couldn't call it a victory, I just _couldn't_. The one friend we would all have given a limb to save...why did _she_ have to be the one that we had to lose beyond all hope? Not dead, but gone, and unlikely ever to return. My heart felt hollow.

I stood there under the blazing sun, and all I could feel was a leaden lump of icy grief. I couldn't even weep; my eyes ached, but the tears wouldn't come.

Alphinaud looked around, a dazed expression in his eyes. “It would seem we are in southern Thanalan again. Minfilia's doing, no doubt. May the Twelve speed her on her way...and the Warriors of Darkness too.” His voice was soft, thoughtful. “I cannot help but wonder what awaits those wayward souls. If they gave their lives in order to travel to the Source, then in returning to the First, would they not...?”

I looked at him, and he shook his head. “But perhaps that was their wish.”

“Maybe,” I croaked. “Maybe.” I started to lever myself to my feet.

Urianger offered me his hand, and I flinched away, falling back onto my knees. He drew back, bowing his head. He didn't act hurt – his posture was one of acceptance.

I turned away, and got up on my own.

Alphinaud shook himself, as if waking up. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice a little more normal. “There is yet work to be done. All those crystals...”

“Leave them to me. I will go back into Zahar'ak and secure them.” Thancred's voice was hoarse, but his face might as well have been made of stone. “The Amalj'aa will still be in disarray after the thrashing the Warriors of Darkness gave them. They are not like to notice a lone bard skulking about.”

Alphinaud gave him a concerned look. “But Thancred, you don't...”

“I know I don't have to,” Thancred cut him off. “But I want to. I will see you at the Rising Stones.”

Alphinaud nodded, and nibbled his thumb a little. “I should go and find Yda and Papalymo. They must have finished searching the Masks' camp by now. Not that it matters anymore.” He walked off, still with a far-off look in his eyes.

Alisaie sighed. “You must be tired, Berylla,” she said to me quietly. “I know I am.”

“I can't imagine how you're still standing,” I answered. “You did all the heavy lifting in there.”

Her laugh was more of a puff of breath. Urianger stepped close to her, and she looked up at him. The faint smile on her lips faded. “When I saw you meeting with that Warrior of Darkness and the Ascian in white at the Great Library. I tried not to think the worst. You've never been one to confide in others, so I knew that even were your intentions pure, you would not share your plans with us until you felt the time was right. But I cannot deny that a part of me feared you had simply betrayed us.”

I looked away from them, unwilling to rub salt into the wounds by saying what I thought about the matter. I really wasn't sure whether to thank the cryptic scholar for his actions...or to punch him in the mouth. I really wanted to hurt _someone_...

“Would that there had been another way. Know that I took no pleasure in deceiving thee, and that these sins will forever weigh heavy on my heart.”

“Good.” I couldn't stop myself, and accepted Alisaie's look without flinching.

She looked back at Urianger. “I understand why you did what you did. That you but sought to achieve the greatest good while inflicting the least harm. Not many would have the courage to make that choice. But even knowing what came of your actions...I find that I cannot condone them. I'm sorry.”

She limped over, and set her hand on my arm. “Berylla, forgive me, but I believe the events of the day have taken their toll on me. I should like to rest for a while.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Take care of yourself.”

Urianger offered, “If thou wilt grant me leave, I would gladly escort thee unto a refuge of thine own choosing.” Alisaie nodded, and limped over to stand beside him. His pale eyes met mine. “Once my lady hath regained her strength, we shall join thee at the Rising Stones. Until then.”

He wasted no more time, teleporting the two of them away.

Thancred lingered, and I looked at him, feeling heavy and weary. The pain I felt paled before the agony in his face. Every inch of him seemed to shout of his grief, but he didn't say a word. And what could I possibly say to comfort him? She who he'd sworn to protect was gone, lost to us utterly. And whether or not it was ridiculous...he felt responsible.

“You look terrible,” he said abruptly.

“Thanks,” I managed a sarcastic smile, though it withered quickly.

“Go,” he told me. “Go somewhere quiet. Rest. Come back when you're ready, and not a minute before.”

“Take your own advice,” I retorted, “and maybe I'll listen.”

“I plan to,” he laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.

I swallowed. “Thancred...I...”

“Don't.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he looked away. I felt like I was watching him bleed to death, even as my own grief felt like a mortal wound.

“I'm going.” He half turned, then paused. “I know you have someone to comfort you.” He didn't look directly at me. “Don't waste that.”

“I won't.” But he was gone.

I rubbed my hands across my arms, and looked around, as if something in the sand and the rocks around me would give me some sort of answer or comfort. The pitiless sun beat down on me, and the silence stretched out, with not even the whisper of wind and sand. I started walking, following the path Alphinaud had taken.

I caught up with him just outside the village entrance. He paused, and set his hands on my arms. “Are you going to be all right?”

 _No._ But I nodded, keeping my eyes down.

“I have yet to tell them what happened in Zahar'ak. I thought it best to do so together.”

I nodded again. He squeezed my arms, and then let me go, to turn and head inside the shaded area around the village aetheryte.

Yda and Papalymo were sitting on the rocks just beside the giant crystal, enjoying the cool.

Yda waved to us. “Ah, there you are! We've finished our search, in case you were wondering.”

Papalymo stood, eyeing me. “Well met,” he said. “It would seem the Griffin's double was telling the truth, insofar as we found nothing resembling a sizable cache of crystals in the Masks' camp. Did you perchance find one in Zahar'ak?”

Alphinaud took a deep breath. “Actually...”

Yda was appalled at the story Alphinaud told, but Papalymo merely nodded, accepting the information. His pale eyes rested on me, and I didn't meet them, pretending instead to be fascinating by the ripples in the shallow water that pooled around the aetheryte.

“I don't believe it. The crystals, Minfilia, all of it. It's just─ I don't know what it is,” Yda said. Her usual ebullience was gone – snuffed out just as it had been when Moenbryda died.

Alphinaud nodded. “I sympathize, Yda. Even now, I struggle to comprehend that which I saw... The only thing I can say with any certainty is that I feel blessed to have been granted a final chance to speak with her. 'Twas bittersweet, aye, but also...affirming.” I felt his eyes on me as he said that last, but I couldn't – wouldn't – look up.

Papalymo spoke up, his voice firm. “Alphinaud, I believe it is past time Yda and I rejoined the Scions. We have been away for far too long. Though I am loath to leave the Griffin to his own devices, I feel our investigation would benefit from your more dispassionate perspectives. And I hope that we might, in turn, offer our own opinions on the many challenges that you have faced in our absence.”

“Yes,” Alphinaud said. “It is time to return to the Rising Stones. To go home.”

I stepped back, drawing glances from the three of them.

“I...” I rubbed my eyes. “I will join you all, but...I'm afraid I need some time. To, to rest...to think.”

Yda and Papalymo nodded, but Alphinaud frowned in concern. I tried to summon up a smile for him. “I'm just tired. I'll go back to Ishgard with Thancred when he takes those crystals in. A few nights in a bed should set me right.” I drew in a breath, slowly, to hide how much I was beginning to shake. “Besides, it'll take days just to catch everyone up with all that's happened, and you hardly need me for that.”

He accepted that, to my relief, and the three of them headed off.

Once they were out of sight, I gathered myself, and accessed the aetheryte.


	62. Snow Melt

I knocked on the red painted door, and Jarilant opened it. He blinked at me in surprise, but swiftly recovered. “Mistress Berylla?”

“I know Ser Aymeric isn't here,” I said, not troubling to keep my voice from trembling. “But if I may, I'd really like the use of that guest room. I just...need to rest.”

The way my voice cracked on the last word seemed to decide the man, and he ushered me inside with all solicitude. I could only manage the vaguest of reassurances.

“I'm fine,” I told him as I dragged myself up the stairs after him. “Just tired...very tired.”

He didn't press me for details, and I blessed him for it. I couldn't have given him more if he had asked. “Thank you,” I told him as he opened the door for me.

In a fog of grief and exhaustion I shed my things, with no regard to racks or chairs. Stripped to my tunic, I crawled under the covers.

I lay there, clutching the pillow, unable to rest. I cried, but the tears were few, bitter, and felt as if I had to force them out. I wanted to wail, to scream at the universe for being so very cruel. I wanted to throw things, to strike out at something. But my pain was too heavy, the ice over my soul too thick.

“Berylla. Berylla, wake up.”

I turned over and opened one eye. The light had faded, and Aymeric's face was lit only by the fire that lay slowly dying in the fireplace. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his shirt-sleeves, his brow creased with worry.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

“No,” I croaked. My throat hurt and my eyes felt as if they'd been filled with sand. I moved around, creeping almost, until I could rest my head on his leg.

I began to talk, trying to tell him of all that had happened. At first it was disjointed, difficult, each word forced out around the knot of grief that wouldn't go. But the more I talked, that knot seemed to dissolve, finally breaking, like ice melting in a stream.

After that, I was sobbing, barely able to make myself understood. Aymeric listened, stroking my back and my hair, letting me ramble.

Spent, I finally lay still, sniffling. My eyes ached, and my head hurt. I felt bruised inside and out, as I had not directly after the fight. As the silence stretched out, a thought sluggishly surfaced.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Why on earth would I ask that of you?”

“I'm gross...” I mumbled. “Whining...weak. Disgusting.”

“You're not weak.” He shifted, lifting me a bit and settling me back on the pillows. From somewhere he pulled a large handkerchief, and handed it to me.

I took it, and stared at it blankly for a moment.

“I think you need more rest,” he told me gently.

I raised my eyes to look at him, but I could barely see. “Thank you,” I managed.

“Sleep.”

“Okay.”

The door shut quietly, and I blinked a little. Then, I managed to blow my nose. I dragged myself out of the bed, and washed my face, taking care with my eyes. I could see how swollen and red they were in the little mirror above the basin. I looked awful.

As I stumbled back to the bed, I noticed that all the chaos I'd left on the floor was gone. How long had I been in a stupor? I hadn't even noticed anyone coming in here.

I shifted a little, finding a more comfortable position, and shut my eyes.

I dreamed.

I saw fragments of memories, and the shards of old wishes. Moments in time that I couldn't readily place – past or future? It all seemed the same. Faces I knew, voices I'd never hear again, mingled with other faces, other places, that I didn't recognize. The smile on my teacher's face and my own pride swelling as I finally mastered that damned crowned pie recipe. A great dragon in the sky, so totally unlike Hraesvelgr and yet – somehow echoing with the same power. Haurchefant, smiling as he kissed my fingers. A man, tall as a mountain, bellowing with laughter that made me want to join in. Ysayle, singing beside a campfire. A delicate sea shell, that for some reason made my eyes well with tears. Louisoix's face, that gentle smile of acceptance – ready to die and glad to pay that price. Machine oil, and the sound of Alisaie weeping. Red stones and the sounds of a pitched battle, as if from far away, and a pair of eyes so filled with madness that it made me tremble. A lion made of white marble, veined with gold, crowned and winged and ready to pounce on me.

I woke, briefly, from time to time. Someone kept a pitcher of clear water and a mug by the bedside, and I drank whenever I woke, but I saw no one, spoke to no one, even when I left the room to attend a call of nature. it was the middle of the night and I hardly had the energy to go looking for someone – even if I had wanted to see anyone, which I didn't.

The dreams meant nothing, no matter how I tried to force them into something coherent. I tried to reach the sea of stars, but couldn't seem to pierce the strangeness in my own head, or the ice covering my soul. It was all a swirl of confusion, until at last I fell into a sleep so deep that the dreams couldn't follow me.

When I opened my eyes, sunlight filtered through the curtains. I groaned, and got up. My mouth felt disgusting. My skin crawled. My hair itched.

I managed to wash my face, and felt a little better. I looked around for my clothes, thinking that I needed a real bath. My pack was gone, as well as all the things I'd dropped on the floor. _Maybe Milinne put everything up for me?_

I wandered over to the small wardrobe, and opened it.

Clothing hung there, but none of it was mine...

I turned, and noticed a folded square of paper on the fireplace mantel.

 _I took the liberty of having your things taken to be cleaned and mended_. The handwriting was Aymeric's. _Make free of the garments I had brought for you. I hope you will remain here until you are recovered_.

I set the note down, and returned to the wardrobe. I eyed the items inside, and ran my fingers across the rich fabrics. Velvet, and silk, and fine linen...far finer than anything I owned. I plucked thoughtfully at a bit of ribbon decorating a sleeve. Far more delicate than anything I owned, too.

But the colors were soothing – deep mossy green, and dark brown. The decorations were modest, the cut of the garments simple. There were even underthings, all of silk.

I picked out a set of undergarments and then chose a linen gown, the green of forest shadows. There were two pairs of slippers, in the bottom of the wardrobe, but neither of them fit me. They'd likely been crafted for some noble lady, with narrow, long, delicate feet. _My_ feet were long, but definitely not delicate. I laughed a little, my voice still little more than a rasp. _I can do without shoes_.

I went down the hall to the bathing chamber, and found that someone had anticipated me – the lovely rose-scented soap that I liked was already set out, and towels rested in the warmer. I peeled out of my tunic and indulged myself in a long, hot bath, washing myself twice.

I wandered out barefoot, with my hair still loose and damp. I found my way downstairs, and started toward the kitchen. Jarilant came out of the sitting room, and bowed to me.

“Mistress Berylla, I am glad to see you are awake. What can I do for you? Ser Aymeric left orders, and all that House Borel can offer is yours for the asking.”

I considered. “I think I'm hungry,” I ventured. I looked up at him. “I'd really rather not have a lot of fuss. Can I just...eat in the kitchen? Please?”

His smile was gentle. “You are most welcome. Follow me.”

And so it was there, in the kitchen, that Aymeric found me, finishing a bowl of simple beet soup and a hunk of fresh bread. I'd eaten slowly, knowing that if I rushed _anything_ at this point, my body was going to have revenge on me. I wasn't sure how long it had been since I had real food, but it was clear that it hadn't been just one night.

Milinne and Jarilant had both sat with me for a little time, sharing some of the food and generally being quiet, kind, and just...there. I gathered that they were a little worried about me, and wondered why.

But when Aymeric came in, and simply stood there looking at me for a long moment, I began to get a glimmer of an idea.

“Are you...?”

“I don't know.” I rubbed my forehead a little.

“Should I...send for anyone?” He looked – for the first time since I had met him – uncertain, even frightened, a little. It finally dawned on me that somehow, I'd scared him, all of them.

I shook my head. “I'm not ready to talk to anyone out there. Not yet.” I dragged up enough of a smile to reassure them. “I'm really grateful for your kindness. All of you.”

Milinne blushed, and Jarilant simply nodded. Aymeric came to me, and held out his hand. I took it, and let him pull me to my feet.

He led me back upstairs, and once back in my room, he shut the door and turned to me, taking my face in his hands. “Gods, Berylla...” He searched my face. “It's been three days.”

“Oh.” My voice was small. I slid my arms around his waist. “Will you please...just hold me?”

He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs, and then slid his arms around my shoulders. I rested my head on his shoulder, leaning into him.

“I'm just tired,” I whispered. “Tired of fighting so damned hard and still losing so, so much. I failed, Aymeric. I couldn't save her...after everything, for all the strength I'm supposed to have, I couldn't do a damned thing to bring her back.”

Aymeric spoke softly, his breath ruffling my hair a little. “You didn't fail. Gods above, you've done things no one thought possible, things that will live on forever in stories. More than that. People will tell their children, and their children's children, about you, about your kindness, about your courage. But even the Warrior of Light has limits. Don't blame yourself.”

“We managed to yank Y'Shtola out of the Life-stream. She should have died.” My voice was dull. “Why couldn't we save Minfilia, too? Why did she have to...go...?” I tightened my grip, my breath catching in my throat.

“From what you told me,” he ran his hands across my back, “She made her decision. You're not responsible for what happened, my love.”

“Someone is,” I said. “I want someone to blame. I want to be angry.” Then I sighed. “But I can't manage it. I'm too damned tired.” I rubbed my cheek against his chest. “I don't have the energy. For anything.”

“Even living?” he whispered.

“Even if I tried, I can't really die,” I pointed out. “But no...I don't mean to say that I want to die. I just...don't want to go out there.” I sniffled a little. “I want the world to just, _leave me alone_ , for a while.”

His hands soothed me. After a time, I spoke again.

“I won't wish for anything to be different.” My words were slow. “This is the hand I was dealt, and I can't change that. I will not give up. I'll fight, and I'll win. But...just for now...damn everything. Let the world turn without me.”

Aymeric kissed the top of my head. “As you wish, my lady.”

I drew back a little. “You don't have to indulge me...but I'm glad you're willing.”

He kissed me. “I can't save the world,” he said. “But I can do this much. Let me take care of you, for this little time.”

I leaned against him again, and shut my eyes.

I spent the day in his garden, just resting, letting the pale sunlight warm me. Part of taking care of me had included him fetching a pair of his own slippers – big enough to fit my gigantic feet. I was glad enough of them. It was really too cold in Ishgard, even in summer, to go barefoot for long. The slippers were lined with sheepskin on the inside, and my feet felt enveloped in warm clouds.

Aymeric sat with me for a time, until he had to get back to work. Jarilant brought me tea and a lap rug, and I stayed put, focusing my attention on tiny things: the elegant but not delicate tea cup in my hand, the vigorously sprouting vines along the southern wall of the garden, the lilies and their long leaves waving in the occasional breeze. The roses were beginning to bloom, and their heady scent wafted across to me from time to time.

Slowly I figured out one of the reasons for my incredible exhaustion. It had been Urianger's will that had taken us all to the aetherial sea – but it had been my power, focused through my crystal, that had enabled it. I had literally carried four people to another plane of existence. I was drained, in every sense of the word.

I dozed a little, and when I woke, the light was turning golden as honey. I heard the front door open, heard Jarilant speaking, and knew before I heard his step on the path behind me that Aymeric was home again.

I smiled up at him as he came to stand beside me. When he set his hand on my shoulder, I put my hand over it, and squeezed. “Hi,” I murmured.

“Hello.” He leaned down and kissed my temple. “Are you ready to come inside?”

“Hm, yes.” I let him help me up, and let Jarilant take the lap rug away from me. I found my legs had fallen asleep, and leaned on Aymeric a little as I stumbled inside, laughing ruefully and gritting my teeth against the pins-and-needles feeling. Milinne fed us all, and though there wasn't much conversation, what there was remained light and simple. We didn't talk about the world outside, didn't mention the Scions. The talk was simple, mundane topics like whether to have ham with breakfast or sausage. Homey things, cozy things.

Aymeric took me upstairs, but when he reached for the door to the guest room, I stopped him.

“I'd rather be with you, tonight,” I told him softly.

We lay in his bed quietly. I rested my head on his shoulder, his arm around me, and stared sleepily at the fire. He kissed my hair, and I murmured and snuggled closer.

“I wish I could stay tomorrow.” His voice was quiet, his breath warm against my hair.

“Duty comes first,” I yawned. “I'll be here.”

“For how long?”

I made a noncommittal noise. “I don't know for sure. As long as they'll let me. Thancred said...” I yawned again. “He said I should rest, and not come back until I was ready.”

“Are they waiting for you?”

“Dunno.” I reached up and stroked his jaw a little. “Until they call for me, I stay.”

He captured my hand and kissed my fingers. Then he placed a kiss on the palm of my hand.

I sighed, and rubbed my cheek against his shoulder.

“Are you still very tired?”

“Yeah.” I yawned again. “Sorry.”

“Sh.” He kissed my hair once more. “Sleep.”

The next day, we rose, and ate breakfast together. Aymeric tended his garden, telling me about the plants – dragon's head, yarrow, gentian – and about how his mother had tended her lilies and her roses much the same way he tended his plants now.

Then he left for the morning. For an hour or two I just sat in the garden, basking. Then I went inside, and sat on his couch, reading over one of the few books I owned – a book discussing traditional Ishgardian sweets, this time. I pestered Milinne at lunch, until she agreed to let me help with dinner. Aymeric came home, and we all ate together, as we had the night before. Then he took me upstairs.

We made love, but it wasn't like the other times I'd been with him. It was slow, almost reverent. Quiet. Aymeric treated me as if I were made of glass, and I let him. Even with all his gentleness, I cried afterwards, as I let go of the pain and anger.

But in the warmth of his arms, falling asleep, I began at last to feel that the ice that had coated my heart and my soul was finally melting away, like snow in spring sunlight.


	63. Fringe of Madness

The letter from the Scions, that I had been dreading and anticipating, arrived a day later. In all good conscience, I couldn't justify staying longer in Ishgard.

Leaving the comforts of a fine manor wasn't the hard part. I was no longer exhausted – I could take up the thread of my duty once more. It was leaving Aymeric that was _difficult_.

Dressed for the road, I stood in the second floor hallway, and didn't want to go down the stairs.

Aymeric cleared his throat, and I turned to him. Our eyes met, and I saw in his eyes the same bitter pain that burned in my chest.

“It's time,” he told me.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

His hands twitched, as if he wanted to reach for me, and I swayed on my feet a little, yearning for him. But he shifted a half step back, and said quietly, “Safe travels.”

For one wild moment, I wanted to just declare that I was never leaving, the world could go save itself...but I managed to control the urge. My voice, when I spoke, was rough with suppressed emotion.

“I'll return. When I can.”

“And I shall be waiting.”

I nodded, and headed down the stairs. I didn't look back.

I spent most of the journey to Dragonhead – well, moping, if I were honest with myself. I tried to get my mind to focus on the work in front of me instead of the man I'd left behind. I'd be able to visit him again.

I rode into the Toll, and let one of the Doman lads take Joy.

As I turned my steps towards the Rising Stones, I heard a voice that made me stop and look up.

“Berylla! You've finally come back!” Alphinaud came up to me, and the look on his face killed my attempt at a smile.

“What's wrong?” I asked him, but he only took my elbow and practically dragged me behind him. His steps were quick, and his stormy expression kept anyone from trying to speak to us. Soon we were up on the heights, not far from the little balcony cafe that Rowena had set up. A few extra crates sat in a line along the wall, and Alphinaud pushed me down onto one of them.

Sitting, I had to look up at him a little. “What's going on, Alphinaud?”

“Where in the seven hells have you been?” he demanded, his voice low.

I blinked at him. “I told you...I was going to rest, in Ishgard.”

“You left before Thancred returned from Zahar'ak.” He crossed his arms. “You never checked in with anyone at House Fortemps. I had to write a letter to them and hope they'd send it on to you somehow.”

“Well I'm here now. If you wanted me here sooner...”

“I did.”

I paused. “Not the Scions, is what you're saying.”

He uncrossed his arms and stepped in close to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I need to talk to you.” His voice was soft, and his eyes were on my mouth.

“About...what?”

“When we were in...that place. Speaking to Minfilia.” He looked into my eyes, but I could see how he had to drag his gaze away from my lips. “You touched me.”

I remembered. How my fingers had tangled with his for the briefest moment, in my desperate need for comfort.

“You shared your emotions with me in that touch,” he said, and his eyes drifted back down. Before I could protest, he slid his fingers into my hair, behind my head, and pressed his lips to mine.

My head swam at the feel of those soft lips against my own. My eyes closed, my whole body shuddered, my toes _curled_. My hands came up and rested against his chest. It felt _**so damn good**_. 

His other hand drifted up from my shoulder, and his knuckles stroked my jaw. “Oh, Berylla,” he whispered against my lips. “How I've wanted to do this...”

It took every ounce of will for me to press my hands against his chest and push him away.

“...no,” I whispered. My eyes were damp as I opened them. My words to Marius echoed in my head. _I could have him without a word. It would be so damn_ _ **easy**_ _. He'd even thank me for it...at first_.

Alphinaud kept his hands on me, cupping my cheeks, even as he eased back. “I know you want me,” he murmured. “You reached for me, you _needed_ me, Berylla. Let me...” He stroked his thumbs across my cheekbones. “Let me be the one that makes you hum to yourself in empty hallways, Berylla. Let me love you...”

My breath hitched, and I shook my head. “We talked about this,” I answered, my voice hoarse. “I can't...do this. It's not _right_ , Alphinaud.”

“I'm not an innocent. I'm not a child. And you don't really see me that way, I _know_ it.”

“I'm not debating you, damn it. I'm telling you _**no**_.”

He let go of me, and I pressed my back against the wall, pushing him further from me. The skin of my cheeks ached where he'd touched me. I felt as if the flesh of my mouth were crying out for more of his kisses.

He was right. I wanted him. Gods, how I wanted him, my whole body _wanted him_...I dragged my hands through my hair, fingers tightening, yanking. _No_.

“Why?” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Why are you denying how you feel?”

“Please don't make this harder than it already is.” I felt the tears slide down my face, burning their way to my chin. _I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this_.

“Who is he, Berylla? Who is it that has so much of your heart, that you have no room for me?”

I sucked in a breath. “No. Oh _hell_ no. You're not pulling that shit twice, Alphinaud.” My desire, frustrated, transmuted into anger. “This is part of _why_ I'm saying no. Don't you _dare_ call it love, when you want to own me. You don't get to use my feelings as weapons against me. You don't get to ask me who I sleep with. That's not how love works.”

He turned away. “So you'll give yourself to anyone but me?”

“Throw a tantrum if you want,” I rasped, “but at this point, yes. Anyone but you. Because _you_ aren't ready to be a man, damn you.” Saying the words felt as if I were stabbing myself. I didn't want to say these things, I didn't want to hurt him, but what else could I do? “I promised that I would _never_ lie to you, Alphinaud. Hear me, and believe me. I won't say yes to you, not while you still see me as a prize to be won.”

His back stiffened. “Very well.”

Without saying another word, he stalked away from me.

I put my head in my hands, and prayed to all the gods that I hadn't just destroyed our friendship.

Eventually I scraped together enough composure to go back down, and walk into the Rising Stones. No sooner had I crossed the threshold than a cheerful voice caroled out my name.

“Berylla! There you are! I've been waiting for you!”

_Apparently, everyone's been waiting for me_.

But Tataru was all smiles, her eyes sparkling with excitement and that sly look she got when she had a “surprise” in store. “I need you to come over to the Diamond Forge right away, okay?”

“Uh, okay?” I cocked my head at her. “Do I get to ask?”

“Nope!” She giggled, and hustled past me, leaving me to follow along like an over-sized puppy.

She still beat me there by a good five minutes, and when I caught up, I found her in deep discussion with the resident artisans of the Toll. I'd never really worked with them before, but I knew they had stellar reputations and top-level skills. However, as the lot of them turned to face me, I felt a little chill thread down my spine.

_Is this how the prey feels under the eyes of the predator?_

“Tataru, what on earth...?”

“Just hold still. Oh, and you might want to close your eyes...” Her laugh was almost evil.

I shook my head, feeling a little dizzy and breathless. I was completely unharmed – but I'd never, ever been measured that thoroughly, that closely, or that _fast_ in all my life. I adjusted my vest, nervously.

Tataru grinned up at me, the very picture of innocence. “That's everything we needed for now! You should probably go talk with the others.”

I stared down at her, unnerved. “Um. Okay.” I backed away slowly, and when she started to giggle helplessly, I turned and _scurried_ away.

Yda was just walking up to the building as I escaped into the sunlight. “Ah! I was just looking for you! Alphinaud wants everyone in the solar for a meeting. I don't know what it's about, but he seemed to think it was very important.”

She walked with me toward the Rising Stones, her steps remarkably unhurried. I knew why before she opened her mouth.

“So did you argue with Alphinaud? He came in looking pretty upset, and you don't look great either.”

I winced, and she nodded.

“I won't ask you to talk about it, but if you need someone to listen, I'm here, okay?”

“...thanks,” I managed. Then I sighed. “I might take you up on that, later.”

We walked into the solar, to see most of the other Scions waiting for us. Alphinaud leaned up against the big desk, and Alisaie stood beside him, one hand on her hip. Yda lifted her hand in a brief wave and said, “Did we miss anything?”

Alphinaud gave her a faint smile. “We would not presume to begin without you, Yda. Urianger has returned to the Waking Sands, but everyone else is now present...”

Alisaie arched her eyebrow at him. “Yes, but for what, exactly? We all have duties to attend to, Alphinaud, so you may dispense with the preamble.”

He straightened away from the desk and gave his sister a sideways look. “Thank you, Alisaie. It is the very subject of those duties which compelled me to call this gathering...”

I stood quietly and listened as he suggested that we elect a new leader, and then acted surprised – and dismayed – at being nominated for the job. “That was not my intention,” he insisted, and brought up again his “failure” with the Crystal Braves. No one contested him, and even I held my peace.

Thancred slanted a look my way. “If we were basing such a decision on merit alone...Berylla would certainly qualify. Though she might struggle to balance such responsibilities with all the other things she does...primal slaying, feeding the orphaned poor...”

I shook my head. _I think not. I'm no paper pusher_. I couldn't meet anyone's eyes. I didn't want to see whether they agreed with Thancred or not.

Papalymo looked up at me. Something in his gaze made me relax just the tiniest bit.

“Have we not become sufficiently familiar with each other's methods to act without an overseer?” he asked. “At present I see no cause to so willingly limit one of our number.”

Alphinaud opened his mouth as if to debate, when a cry rang out from beyond the solar doors.

“Help! I need some help here!”

As one our heads turned, and without a word we all headed for the door.

Tataru was kneeling on the floor beside a figure in dusty leathers. Blood spattered the stones near them.

“Tataru! Are you all right?!”

She looked up at Alphinaud. “I'm fine, but this Miqote – she's injured!”

Yda gasped. “M'Naago! Gods, what happened to you?! Y'Shtola, please! You have to help her!”

Y'Shtola nodded. “Krile, a hand if you would. Let us see about closing these wounds.”

The rest of us backed off and let the two healers have room to work.

Tataru dragged Alisaie off with her for a moment to ensure that space was made ready for the injured woman. Thancred went over to talk to the two burly Roe brothers that were off-duty for the day, making certain they could help out when it came time to move the patient.

I stood by, with Papalymo, silently waiting. Yda wrung her hands a little, and was mumbling something under her breath – a prayer, perhaps? I'd never seen her quite so worked up. It seemed like she knew this M'Naago rather well.

By the time Tataru returned, the most crucial healing had been completed; Hoary Boulder was just finished lifting the wounded traveler into a chair.

I saw then that her leathers were green and yellow, and bore markings that tickled at my memory. She was covered in yellowish dust, even in her tail fur. But her voice was clear, if weak, as she spoke to us.

“Thank you...my message was too important to delay. I took the shortest route...though it was more heavily patrolled. My efforts at evasion were not...” she winced a little, “entirely successful.”

Yda looked like she wanted to hug the woman – or possibly shake her. “You're too brave for your own good! What was so urgent?”

“I had very good reason...” She coughed a little. “My name, by the way, is M'Naago, and I belong to the Ala Mhigan Resistance.”

My eyes widened a little as I finally recognized the markings on her. Not just a person supporting the Resistance from afar – as many of the refugees in Little Ala Mhigo were doing – this was a true member of the freedom fighters. I knew then just what sort of hell she had had to pass through to reach us here, and marveled that she was still breathing at all, much less talking.

“I came to warn you,” she continued, her voice still steady though her tail and ears were shaking. “To warn Yda and Papalymo about the Griffin. He's always been dangerous but...he's planning something new...something reckless.”

Thancred spoke. “I've heard about this Griffin of yours. Sounds like he's eager to test his claws.”

“He means to assault Baelsar's Wall,” M'Naago said flatly. “From the Ala Mhigan side.”

“What?” Papalymo frowned. “But what does he hope to gain by such an action?”

“He wants the fires of war to spread to Eorzea – and to do that he wants to control the border between Ala Mhigo and Gridania.”

Alphinaud's voice was stern. “So he means to spark a conflict between the Alliance and the Imperial forces stationed in Ala Mhigo – to have Eorzea's armies aid in the liberation effort, whether they will it or no.”

Papalymo crossed his arms and frowned. “His plan is flawed. Even if the Resistance succeeded in occupying the Wall, they wouldn't be able to hold it. Imperial reinforcements would drive them out within a week!”

Krile turned her gaze from her patient to the rest of us, looking worried. “If there's even a chance, the Alliance must be informed.”

Y'Shtola nodded firmly. “Agreed. I shall depart for Limsa and speak with the Admiral. Thancred, Uldah is yours. Alphinaud, Alisaie, please travel to the Elder Seer and inform her; she will surely call for a full council of the Alliance. You are to help prepare for that council.” Then she looked to me. “Berylla, you will be our voice in Ishgard. Speak to Ser Aymeric and explain the situation to him; encourage him to send an envoy for the council.”

I nodded, glad that she had taken the initiative so decisively.

She looked last to Krile and Tataru. “Please care for our guest and ensure that she stays quiet and rests. We will return with word as soon as we may, and I would prefer that she not travel before we get back.”

Everyone scattered then, myself included – I only waited to make sure that M'Naago made it as far as the door that led back into the infirmary before heading out.


	64. Council

I reached Ishgard before supper time, and took myself directly to the Congregation. Lucia was there, and looked up at me with mild surprise. “Welcome,” she said. “What business brings you to Ishgard today, Berylla?”

I related the news we'd heard. “The other Scions are making arrangements to prepare for a council – we're certain the other Alliance leaders will want to convene and discuss this situation.”

“I see.” Lucia nodded once, her eyes gone muddy-green with concern. “Wait here,” she told me, “and I will summon Ser Aymeric.”

It took longer for him to show up than I expected – but when he strode in, I recalled once more his new status – and work. Of course it would take longer. Getting people to shut the hell up – especially certain Ishgardian lords – always took longer than military efficiency. Chain of command didn't mean a damn thing to a scion of House Dzemael, I was willing to lay coin on that.

“It is good to see you, my friend. A pity it must be under such circumstances. Had Lucia not informed me of the urgency of your suit, I would certainly have sent for some wine.” His eyes gleamed at me, and I had to repress a grin at the small in-joke. “But to business,” he continued, the flash of humor fading. “I thank you for bringing these developments in Ala Mhigo to our attention. Ishgard will of course send an envoy to attend the council in Gridania. I cannot say who will represent us, however, as the choice is not mine to make─not mine alone, at any rate.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair – a gesture I hadn't seen before. Not so much a nervous motion as an impatient one, I suspected. Herding cats was surely easier than his present task. No wonder he'd been so tired every evening during my stay.

“Given the imminence of the threat, we may forgo the formalities of a full assembly, but I will still need to consult my counterpart in the House of Commons prior to proceeding. Will you permit me some time to make the necessary arrangements?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“I thank you.” He gave me a little bow, and then turned to Lucia. “Our representative, whomever we select, will require a suitable escort. Make your preparations, and inform Ser Handeloup that he is to lead in your absence.”

Lucia saluted and turned to go. Aymeric turned back to me. “Pray accompany Lucia to the Gates of Judgment and make ready to depart for Gridania. I will have our envoy join you as soon as I can. Fury speed you on your way.”

Lucia and I stood near one of the braziers on the Coerthas side of the Gates, as night closed in. She had, at least, had the kindness to let me get a bite to eat before dragging me out here. I wondered if we two would ever really be comfortable around each other. She had never once shown me another fit of ill temper or jealousy regarding Aymeric, but I would never be able to really forget that she had loved him first.

I was glad of Joy's presence next to me; her warmth helped almost more than the brazier did. I just wished her feathers could shield me from my own awkwardness.

The wind howled – it always did in this spot – and Lucia spoke to me in a low voice, enough to carry to my ears but not to be heard by any of the guards.

“You stayed a long time, and then came back so soon...is there anything I should know?”

I gazed at her. I could see the unhappiness in her eyes, and wished yet again that I knew what to do or say.

“Didn't you talk to him?” I asked finally. “We're still not...exclusive.”

“He told me no. Again.”

I bit my lip. “I...wish I could say something helpful. But I'm not sure I can even talk to him about you – or if he would really listen to me if I tried.”

“You make him happy. I...am still his underling. He has made his feelings clear.”

“Get him drunk?” She gave me such a look that I went pale. “Sorry,” I mumbled, “I couldn't think of anything else...and when he's had enough brandy, he does get, uh, cuddly.”

She looked away, into the flames, and cleared her throat. “I am not so desperate as to trick my way into his bed.”

I fidgeted. “I do wish he would...give you a chance. It's...not fair.”

She cleared her throat again, and raised her voice, changing the subject.

“You are perhaps wondering who will represent Ishgard at the council? As this is a military matter, I should not be surprised if Ser Aymeric nominated himself. He is yet lord commander of the Temple Knights, after all.”

I followed her example. “I can't imagine the parliament will be happy about sending him away, though. It seems like they can't get anything done without him there.”

She snorted. “They are learning to work together. Perhaps this will be an opportunity for them to practice further. They would be fools not to send him. Few if any in Ishgard can claim to possess his expertise in both politics and warfare.”

A bird came through the gate on the Ishgard side, and I looked up. I couldn't keep the smile from my face, and I saw Lucia's eyes light up a little too before she put on her usual, professionally neutral expression.

Aymeric rode up to us on his tall, black bird. “We meet again,” he smiled.

I swung up into Joy's saddle, even as Lucia mounted her own – rather drab – bird.

Aymeric spoke as we rode out into the snow. “As it happens, my counterpart in the House of Commons agreed that I should act as Ishgard's envoy.” He laughed, very quietly. “ Not, I concede, that there was ever any real doubt. As lord commander of the Temple Knights, it is my duty to sanction any military cooperation. Be that as it may, I could not in good conscience make the decision alone─not with the ink scarce dry in the republic's book of statutes. I trust you understand, my friend.”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Alas, I must test your patience still further by making a brief stop at Camp Dragonhead. Given the trouble brewing in the Black Shroud, I would see that the garrison is ready to defend the border.”

We rode onward, making good time, and soon enough pulled up in front of the familiar doors. A knight immediately stepped forward to take the reins from Aymeric and Lucia.

“Come inside with us, Berylla. You may see a familiar face,” Aymeric said. I raised my eyebrows, and then looked to Lucia, who stood beside him already. She nodded.

So I got off of Joy, and followed the lord commander inside.

Stepping through the doors felt decidedly odd. So many memories...and then I saw the painting.

It hung above his desk, and the sight of those silver eyes, that warm smile, stopped me in my tracks for a moment. My breath hitched and I fought to keep my face under control.

So wrapped up was I in dealing with seeing Haurchefant's portrait that I barely noticed the person who got up from the desk and came around to greet us, until he opened his mouth.

“Berylla, old girl!? How wonderful to see you! And Ser Aymeric too! To what do I owe these unexpected pleasures?”

My eyes snapped away from the portrait and my mouth snapped shut. “Emmanellain?”

He grinned at me, and beside him, Honoroit's grin was almost a match for his master's.

“I will have some mulled wine brought up,” the young servant began, but Aymeric held up his hand.

“Do not trouble yourself, Honoroit─we shall soon be on our way. Lucia, a brief summary, if you will.”

Lucia related the situation swiftly and succinctly. Emmanellain snorted. “Bloodletting comes as naturally as breathing to a Garl─I-I mean, to an imperial.”

Lucia raised one eyebrow as the young lord's face went a bit red.

Honoroit shifted forward a half-step, and spoke up. “Ah, we shall strengthen our patrols as you suggest. We shall also be sure to communicate these developments to Lord Francel and the Observatorium.”

_Still saving his master's ass, but at least Emmanellain is trying_. I kept my thoughts to myself, though. The kid didn't need me ragging him.

Aymeric nodded once. “I see you have everything in hand. Carry on, Commander.”

He and Lucia turned and left. I looked over at the portrait hanging on the wall one more time, and Emmanellain, seeing my glance, patted my shoulder.

“I doubt I'll ever feel worthy to sit where he sat...”

I looked at him, and saw again the resolve in his eyes. He really was growing up at last, and I set my hand over his for a second. “He'd be proud to see you now.”

Emmanellain ducked his head a little. “We can but play the hand we're dealt. And with a little help from the veterans─and Honoroit's ceaseless chiding─I'm sure I'll muddle through. So worry not, old girl! Off to Gridania with you!”

“Don't work too hard, all right?” I smiled. “Little brother.”

The cocky grin came back. “I shan't waste my time attempting to replace him. I can but be my best self and hope that that's enough!”

“Then that is enough for me.” I patted Honoroit's shoulder, and took my leave.

Arriving in Gridania, I led the two Ishgardians directly to the glade where we would enter the Lotus Stand. The lanterns lit the paths, and reflected in the rills and streams. Fireflies, too, flirted with their own reflections in the water, even though it was somewhat past midnight by now.

Lucia gazed around as we walked. “It seems so peaceful.”

“Diplomatic duties have brought me here on several occasions, but I find that I am as enraptured by the Black Shroud's beauty now as when first I laid eyes upon it.” Aymeric sighed. “I fear that this time, however, events shall not afford us the luxury of enjoying the splendor of the forest.”

But when we arrived, the conjurer who acted as a kind of door-man for the Elder Seer shook his head. “You are come much sooner than the others,” he told us. “The Seer is in communion with the elementals this night. We can arrange for you to rest comfortably, but I am afraid she will not be available until the morning.”

“What about the Leveilleur twins?” I asked.

“They are already abed, I would imagine,” the conjurer answered with a small shrug. “They indicated that they did not expect any of the other leaders to arrive until morning.”

“Wish Alphinaud had thought to call me, then,” I muttered, but I turned to Aymeric. “Well then, Ser Aymeric,” I said in a louder tone, “shall I escort you to the Canopy?”

“Lead on,” he nodded. “Even a few hours of rest is not unwelcome.”

The Canopy was all too happy to put us all up for the night, in three rooms on the top floor. “Huh,” I commented as we followed the night clerk up the steps. “I didn't know there even was a top floor.”

“These are not the rooms for common adventurers,” the clerk said with a half smile. “They are...a bit different.”

As we attained that top floor, I began to see what he meant. A roof top garden extended out from the southern face of the building, and every room on this floor faced out toward the garden area. The doors were spaced rather farther apart here than downstairs, too.

He opened the first door, and bowed to Lucia. “My lady.” As she stepped forward he handed her a small brass key, which she took. She glanced back at Aymeric and me, but the clerk was already walking forward.

The next door was the room for Aymeric. He took the key from the clerk, and gave me a sideways glance. As the clerk moved on, I met Aymeric's gaze and smiled just a little.

The last door, of course, was meant for me. The clerk gave me my key, and bowed. “Are Mistress Alisaie and Master Alphinaud also on this floor?” I asked.

“Master Alphinaud's room is the very next one,” the clerk answered. “Do you require aught else, my lady?”

“No, thank you. I should rest well, in such pleasant surroundings,” I told him. He smiled and took himself off, back down the stairs.

I went into the room, and closed the door quietly behind me.

I wasn't all that surprised to hear a tap on my door less than twenty minutes later. I opened it and let Aymeric in.

He still wore all his finery, but the moment the door shut, he was pulling off the ornate cloak and hanging it on a hook. As he bent to take off his boots, I just watched him, thumbs tucked into my belt. He straightened, boots set aside, and advanced on me.

I let him wrap his arms around me, and granted him one kiss. Then I pulled back a little. “Not that I mind you being here,” I said quietly, “but you seem...more intense than I would have expected. Is everything all right?”

“Nothing is right,” he answered me, and nuzzled my neck. “I can't sleep. The house is too quiet. My bed is too cold.”

“I missed you too,” I let my head fall back, offering him my throat.

He tugged my hair tie loose and buried his fingers in my hair even as he gently nibbled a line from my jaw to my collarbone. I stroked his shoulders, and plucked at the ties holding the brocaded gambeson in place.

Cloth slithered to the floor and I straightened, eager to put my lips against his skin, to taste him again and again. My own vest and tunic dropped to the floor, as I nipped and suckled at him, barely registering the cool air against me.

“Need you...” His breath was hot against my ear, and as he nibbled it, I held in a giggle.

We stumbled toward the bed, neither of us willing to stop touching the other even long enough to use both hands for getting the rest of our clothes off. When we finally collapsed across the mattress, clothes were all over the floor and my smalls were clinging to one leg. I was too busy filling my hands and mouth with Aymeric to care.

He groaned, and I lifted my head for one second. “Sh,” I told him, grinning, “Don't wake up the whole inn, lover.”

“Witch,” he gasped as I lowered my head again, lavishing attention on his cock.

“Mhm,” I replied, and saw him bite his knuckles. Pleased, I continued sucking him, until – much too soon – he pulled me away.

He tugged me up, his mouth hungry on mine, his hands everywhere, desperately stroking and kneading my flesh.

I wriggled free of him and shifted until I was on my hands and knees. I rocked against him and heard his breath go ragged.

“By the Fury,” he muttered, and then I felt his hands on me, stroking my back and my waist and then gripping my hips. As he sank his entire length into me, one smooth motion, I dropped my head to the mattress, biting the heel of my hand to contain my moan.

My hair fell across my face, my back curved to roll my hips against him. His cock stroked in and out of me, and I trembled around it.

I began to murmur to him, turning my head just enough that I wouldn't be mumbling into the bed-clothes. I wasn't even sure what I was saying, filthy things were just pouring out of my mouth, but it didn't _matter_ , because every word seemed to electrify him.

It went on and on. He built my pleasure up and up – and then would slow, teasing me, curling himself over me and caressing my back and my breasts tenderly. And then he would grasp my hips and rut against me, thrusting harder and harder until I whimpered and quaked.

By the time I felt him gather himself, I was made only of pulsing need and tiny cries, whispering over and over, “Fuck me fuck me _fuck me_ _ **fuck**_ _me_ – oh gods!”

I knew he had reached his limit, and knowing, my own body seemed to throw itself into a higher gear. His hand knotted in my hair, and I felt his mouth against the point of my shoulder. We rocked against each other, our rhythm perfectly aligned, and I grabbed the corner of the pillow in my mouth to stifle my voice.

He began to come, and his teeth sank into my shoulder even as I began to scream into the pillow. My muscles milked him, and he groaned against my flesh with every twitch.

Then we both collapsed into a boneless heap of sweaty limbs.

“Gods above,” I panted, too worn out to move.

Aymeric nuzzled me. “I didn't hurt you...?”

“The farthest thing from it. And all this because we were apart for less than a single day?”

“I wasn't ready for you to go, I suppose.”

“Nor was I,” and I sighed a little, burying my face in the pillow. “But the world was done waiting on us.”

He didn't speak. Instead, he turned me in his arms, moving slowly, until he could cradle me against him, my head on his shoulder, our legs tangled together. His warmth kept me from shivering even as the sweat dried on my skin. I snuggled, and my eyes started to drift closed.

On the edge of sleep, I felt him stroke my hair, heard him whisper something I couldn't make out. The last thing I knew before sleep took me was the soft press of his lips against my temple.


	65. Speak Swiftly

When I woke, Aymeric was already gone. I squinted at the water-clock and swore softly, then dragged myself out of the bed.

I was glad of the shower, even though the water was rather chilly. Cold or not, I felt able to face a long and possibly frustrating meeting. I had no idea how Aymeric had been awake before me.

I got myself dressed and presentable, and opened the door.

I heard voices out on the balcony as I stepped outside, and went to see if perhaps food was on offer. But when I came into view of the little dining area, I paused.

Alisaie gave me a little salute with the pastry in her hand before continuing to neatly demolish it. Aymeric had a pastry as well, and was devouring it with similar enthusiasm. Lucia was holding a mug with both hands, looking as if she would rather still be in bed.

Alphinaud had been speaking to Aymeric, but the moment he saw me, he snapped his mouth closed and he looked away from me.

I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut.

He turned his face away as if he didn't notice me and looked at his sister. “Come, Alisaie, it's time for us to meet with the Elder Seer.”

She flashed him a surprised look, her mouth full with her last bite of pastry. But he didn't wait for her to even finish chewing, just got up and walked away, his steps brisk. She swallowed quickly, washing down her food with the last of her tea, and followed after him.

I walked up the table slowly, and Aymeric glanced at me. “Good morning,” he said. His eyes searched mine for a moment. I wondered if I looked as shaken as I felt. Probably. But he didn't ask, and I was just as glad.

Instead he poured a mug of fragrant tea for me, adding in my usual two sugars, and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said absently, and drank a little of it, still staring at the archway through which Alphinaud and Alisaie had vanished.

_I shouldn't be surprised. Alphinaud's still upset about what happened yesterday_. But, gods above, it hurt so much to see him walk away from me as if he couldn't put enough space between us.

Aymeric took another pastry, and started in on it. “We will also make our way to the Lotus Stand,” he said conversationally, “but I felt quite hungry, and I am certain this meeting is likely to require much energy.”

Lucia stirred her tea, then drank half of it in one go. “Forgive me if I hope it's over quickly.”

I sat down in the chair Alisaie had vacated, not least because it didn't face the archway. Aymeric gestured with his half-eaten pastry. “There are a few that have meat inside.”

“How on earth do you manage to speak and eat at the same time?” But I reached over and poked the platter, and saw that some of the pastries were indeed a little browner – and not drizzled with sugar glaze. I grabbed one in a napkin and set it in front of Lucia, then got one for myself.

“Definitely there are benefits to being classed as a vitally important person,” I commented after my first bite. “Nothing served downstairs is quite this good.”

Aymeric grinned and took the last sweet pastry. Meanwhile, Lucia managed to start on the pastry I'd given her.

In short order all the food was gone, and Lucia's eyes had lost the glaze of exhaustion. Aymeric stood, wiping his mouth and fingers on his napkin. “Time to go.”

We walked downstairs, and out onto the grassy paths once more. The conjurer saw us coming, and lifted one hand. “Good morning,” he said. “Are you ready to enter the Stand?”

“We are,” nodded Aymeric.

“Very good. This way, if you pl─ Ah, and the Limsa Lominsan party, as well.”

We turned a bit, to see the Admiral striding up, her black coat flaring a little in her wake. Walking a half pace behind her was a familiar figure with pale horns. Yugiri! I grinned.

The Admiral's red lips curved in a smile as she dipped her head to Aymeric. “I had hoped to slip in unnoticed, but I see I was not the only one delayed in my arrival. Greetings, Ser Aymeric.”

Aymeric bowed briefly, giving her his professionally charming smile. “Admiral, always a pleasure.”

Her eyes twinkled with appreciation before she turned to me. “Ah, Berylla, I trust you are well? It is a day for reunions, it seems. I believe you are well acquainted with my escort?”

My grin didn't fade a bit. If the reserved woman would have let me, I'd have hugged her.

Instead, she gave me that odd Eastern bow, and then smiled slightly. “Lady Berylla. I was glad to hear from Riol that the missing Scions have now been found.”

I ducked my head a bit to hide the falter in my own smile. “We're glad, too,” I managed.

As I looked up again, I saw the Admiral's sympathetic glance. “There is much and more I would discuss with you, but let us first attend to the issue at hand. Shall we?”

The patient conjurer stepped aside and bowed to us all, and we filed down the path towards the heart of Gridania.

The meeting was short – though a trifle awkward. Gridania – and indeed, Limsa and Uldah – had long had contingency plans in place for repelling Imperial attack. But their plans had not actively included Ishgardian forces. When Aymeric offered to immediately deploy a force of knights to help bolster the border where the Wall lay, there was a moment of silence. Fascinated, I watched as the Elder Seer fumbled for words, the only time I'd ever seen her flustered. Was it so unimaginable to them that Aymeric would act in honest faith? Had they learned nothing of him in the months since Ishgard had returned to the Alliance?

Or maybe they just hadn't thought it through.

Yugiri spoke into that awkward silence, and offered the aid of the Doman shinobi. The Elder Seer seemed quite relieved to accept aid – after all, she had just got done saying how much Gridania needed help! - and very swiftly the meeting concluded. Everyone strode out with brisk steps – except Alphinaud.

He followed the others, but his steps were very slow, and his head was bent. Alisaie caught my eye, and I lagged behind to walk beside her. When Alphinaud stopped in his tracks, frowning deeply, she spoke.

“The Council has made quite a practical decision,” she poked his shoulder a little, “so why are you scowling?”

“It is a most logical decision – the only reasonable one, in fact.” He sighed, and nibbled the side of his thumb on his left hand. It was only then that I noticed that the fingernails on his right hand had all been bitten down to the quick. He looked _exhausted_ , now that I could see his face clearly.

“But I fear we are all missing something vital.” His words drew my attention back. “Are we not giving the Griffin exactly what he wants? Are we mistaken as to his true goals?”

Alisaie shrugged. I felt he was right, but I couldn't figure out what other goals this crazy Griffin person could have in mind. Rekindling war between the Alliance and the Empire would not benefit the people of Ala Mhigo, after all. It would be madness to think that Eorzean forces, no matter how ferocious their passion to fight, would be enough to overwhelm the kind of might the Empire could bring to bear. They outnumbered the Alliance by ten to one, easily, and their weaponry was terrifying. Ala Mhigo would be crushed into dust if that kind of battle took place on its soil.

After a moment of silence, Alphinaud shook his head, and continued walking down the path leading back to the city proper. Alisaie and I trailed him, exchanging slightly worried looks.

We passed through into the glade that held Nophica's Altar. Alphinaud started to speak, when a voice called out.

“Ah, good, you have yet to depart. I feared I had missed you.”

I smiled at Aymeric as he walked towards us. Alphinaud looked surprised.

“Pardon the interruption. I had hoped to thank Berylla for serving as our escort before other duties called her away.” He raised his voice slightly, his tone amused. “I also wished to thank our Doman ally...”

Again Alphinaud started a bit, and I shared a grin with Aymeric and Lucia both, as Yugiri stepped away from the tree she had been leaning on. I'd noticed her instantly, but apparently Alphinaud and Alisaie were not used to thinking of checking the shadows.

As she came within arm's length of us, the Doman woman spoke, her voice quiet and demure as always. “Forgive me, my lord. I was but awaiting an opportune moment to join the conversation, and force of habit made me keep to the shadows.”

Aymeric shook his head, his eyes warm. “No apologies are necessary, Mistress Yugiri. I was most grateful for your interjection when I offered Ishgard's support.” He looked down for just a moment. “My nation's historic failure to heed the Alliance's pleas for aid is a matter of record. Even so, the Alliance leaders were plainly unprepared for my impromptu apology.” He looked back up at Yugiri, and smiled again. “The resulting air of awkwardness might have lingered longer were it not for your timely offer of cooperation, which allowed the Elder Seer to accept us both. I very much appreciated the gesture.”

Yugiri shook her head. “I only did my duty, Ser Aymeric. The Empire is an enemy to us all, and we are grateful for the opportunity to fight at your side.”

Lucia cleared her throat a little, and Aymeric nodded once. “Pray convey my regards to the Scions, my friends. We must return to Ishgard.”

The two of them turned and left, and I held in a little sigh.  _ Keep your mind on business, Berylla _ .

Beside me, Alisaie let out an exasperated sound. “Whatever is wrong with a simple “sorry” or “thank you”? Must these politicians always make a speech out of  _ everything _ ?”

Alphinaud's voice dripped condescension. “That is how we adults speak, dear sister.” I didn't miss the flick of his eyes towards me, but I held my peace.

Alisaie set her hands on her hips. “Humph,” she scoffed. “Perhaps the ones who like the sound of their own voice.” As Alphinaud reddened a little, she looked over at me and Yugiri. “In any case, our business here is concluded. We should be on our way as well.” She smiled at the shinobi. “Will you accompany us to Revenant's Toll, Yugiri?”

Yugiri nodded, smiling.

“Actually, I think I shall first pay a brief visit to the East Shroud,” Alphinaud said. “I am curious to know how Papalymo and Yda fared in their talks with the sylphs, not to mention what has been going on at Baelsar's Wall. I will join you at the Rising Stones anon.”

Without waiting for us to reply, he turned and strode away. His sister stared after him, her lips parted in surprise.

“Well,” I said quietly. “I suppose we should get on our way, then.”

The forest paths were clear and Joy was well pleased to be running in the dappled sunlight. She whistled to herself on occasion, and the two rented birds carrying Yugiri and Alisaie would whistle back. It was altogether relaxing and pleasant.

Alisaie rode up beside me, as Yugiri let her bird drop back a couple paces. I looked over at her, eyebrows raised.

“So.” She didn't quite look at me. “What exactly is the trouble between you and my brother?”

I felt my face go pale as I snapped my eyes back to the road. My hands tightened on the reins, and I had to force them to relax before Joy noticed.

“I don't know what you mean.” I attempted to keep my voice neutral, calm, expressionless.

Alisaie snorted. “Bullshit.”

I stared at her for a moment, half in shock and half in admiration. I hadn't expected her to know such a word, much less that she could say it and still sound somehow lady-like.

After a moment I spoke again. “Look. He and I did...have a disagreement. A difference of opinion, all right?”

She looked right at me. “A difference of opinion does not send Alphinaud into a state where he gnaws his nails off with worry and then drinks himself to sleep.”

“He what?”

“The only reason I know is because I heard him throwing up, and came into his room to check on him,” she said. Her eyes – so like Alphinaud's – bored into mine. “He has never been fond of drink, but he polished off two bottles of wine last night.”

I gaped at her. “I...don't know what to say.”

“What kind of argument did you have with him, and when?”

“I...” Tears stung my eyes, and I shook my head and looked away from her. “I can't talk about it, Alisaie. I _can't_. It's...very personal.”

The silence that fell then was brittle. “If you've hurt my brother...”

“Not intentionally,” I managed. “You know me better than that, I hope.” I took a deep breath. “Have...have you talked to him about it?”

“I tried. He said the same thing, that it was personal.” Her mouth quirked a little. “But he has ever been reluctant to talk to me about personal things. I am his sister, after all.”

I couldn't think of anything to say. Memory flashed through me of the day before and how he'd looked at me before he walked away. Wounded.

“He's upset with me, not the other way around,” I finally told her. “I can't blame him, but I can't take back what I said to him. I really don't feel comfortable talking to you about it. Not right now.”

She gave me a narrow look, and then nodded. “Good enough for now. But I expect an explanation in full when you are able.”

She let her bird drop back, but I didn't heave a sigh of relief. I stared at the road ahead, the pleasant scenery now meaningless. _What the hell could I say to Alisaie about this? “Oh, yeah, it's just that your brother wanted to jump my bones and I said no.” She'd beat me up at the very least. Possibly, she'd beat up Alphinaud too_.

I shook my head and dragged my thoughts away from the whole situation.

_Damned if I do and damned if I don't...no point dwelling on it. Especially not if we're going to war._

We reached the Toll just after noon – the birds had been in such high spirits that we'd made truly excellent time. Alisaie went off to the Rising Stones right away, and Yugiri paused a moment, with a considering look on her face.

“The Domans have settled in really well here,” I observed. “Do you know where everyone is?”

“They have kept me apprised,” she answered. “It was good traveling with the two of you. I am sure you have many things to attend to at the Rising Stones.”

“Eh,” I shrugged, “they wait for me most of the time. Though Alisaie might fuss if I'm more than twenty minutes behind her.” I grinned a little, and Yugiri smiled back.

“Even now, I am astonished by how closely Mistress Alisaie resembles Master Alphinaud. Their very mannerisms are alike. From a distance, I should be hard-pressed to tell one from the other─until they opened their mouths, of course.”

I laughed aloud.


	66. A Crystal Sphere

Alisaie had been accosted by some adventurer or other inside the inn. She smiled at me a little and waved the fellow away – I noticed his look of disappointment and smothered a laugh.

As we moved off, she spoke quietly to me. “I don't know about you, but I am heartily glad that all of the talking is over. I understand that these council meetings are important, but do you not find it tiresome to have to weigh every word before you speak it? I doubt I will ever feel at home in the realm of politics.” She heaved a little sigh as she tugged open the door at the back of the inn's common room. “That said, people have been known to change. And if my brother is willing to run his own errands, _anything_ is possible!”

We walked into the Rising Stones, and Y'Shtola greeted us from where she sat at the bar. “Ah, you are returned from the council. But what of Alphinaud? Did some other matter require his attention?”

I heard the doors behind us open before I could answer.

“Mine apologies, friends. I trust we have not kept you waiting overlong.”

I stepped to the side a bit, and smiled to see Yda and Papalymo right behind Alphinaud as he strode into the room. I didn't try to meet his eyes, just let him walk past me like I didn't exist, and focused my attention on Yda.

“Greetings, everyone!” Yda beamed.

“Welcome back,” I told her. I saw Krile come out of the infirmary, and nodded towards her. Yda turned, saw the Lalafellin, and waved.

“Krile! How's Naago doing? She will be all right, won't she?”

Krile spread her hands and shrugged a little. “I don't see why not. She's sleeping at the moment. Tataru is keeping an eye on her, so we'll know soon enough if there's any change in her condition.”

Y'Shtola's tail flicked as she stood up. “Her wounds are healing well. With sufficient rest, I am certain she will make a full recovery.”

Yda's shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank goodness for that.”

The door opened once more, and Thancred came in, with Yugiri a step behind him. I waved them over, trying not to notice how haggard Thancred still looked.

Y'Shtola gestured in my direction as we formed a loose circle. “Now, share with us the council's decision.”

Alisaie answered, one hand on her hip. “Each of the nations, Ishgard included, has committed to providing military support to Gridania. The Eorzean Alliance will soon have a significant force in the Black Shroud, ready to respond to any imperial act of aggression.”

Yda crossed her arms, her lips pursed. “You know, I almost wish the council would stop messing around and give the Griffin what he wants. I wouldn't like to be the imperial caught between the Resistance and the Alliance!”

Papalymo glared up at her. “Yda, you cannot seriously – bah,” and he shook his head at her. “One does not lightly go to war with the Garlean Empire.”

Alphinaud's frown matched the Lalafellin sorcerer's. “Quite. To open hostilities without due consideration would be to invite disaster.” He sighed and shook his head. “If only there were some way to reach the Griffin─some means to convince him to abandon this reckless course.”

Papalymo cocked his head. “Hm. It may not be entirely unfeasible.”

His thin lips curved as he saw that he had everyone's undivided attention. “There is a network of tunnels beneath Baelsar's Wall─secret passages dug by the Resistance to provide a way out of Ala Mhigo.”

Y'Shtola pursed her lips, speculating. “Which may equally serve as a way in?”

“Precisely. If all are in agreement, I would be the one to undertake the necessary negotiations. I am familiar with the route, and the Resistance is familiar with me.”

Yda stamped one foot. “About as familiar as they are with me, you mean? Say what you want─I'm coming too!”

I tilted my head, and opened my mouth to offer to escort the two of them. But Yugiri spoke sooner.

“I have some experience in the practice of infiltration. If you would have me, my services are at your disposal.”

Papalymo nodded, even as Thancred chimed in. “As are mine. It has been far too long since I shared a shadow with a shinobi, and I do not intend to waste the opportunity.”

Y'Shtola nodded firmly. “Four is quite sufficient for an infiltration mission. Greater numbers will only serve to increase the risk of detection. Krile and I will direct our energies elsewhere.” She glanced at Alphinaud and Alisaie. “What of you two?”

“I will return to the East Shroud, and stand watch over the border. Should matters take a turn for the worse, it would seem wise to be on hand. And...” He looked over at Alisaie. “While it may not seem the most thrilling duty, dear sister, might I ask that you remain at the Rising Stones to pass on messages and so on?”

Her lips twisted a little as she regarded him. “To _hold the fort_ , you mean.” She waited long enough for the tips of her brother's ears to start blushing, and then answered. “Very well. I suppose the task must fall to someone. Safe travels, all of you.”

Y'Shtola and Krile went back toward the infirmary, while Yda, Papalymo, Yugiri, and Thancred moved off into a corner, discussing travel plans in low voices.

I set my hand on Alisaie's shoulder. She glanced up at me and smiled a little. “I suspect Tataru would have little trouble facilitating communication between our forces under normal circumstances. But I concede she has her hands full nursing that Resistance fighter back to health. No matter: my turn in the field will come.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “It will.”

Alphinaud cleared his throat, and I looked over at him, wary.

“Might I prevail upon you to accompany me, Berylla?” He glanced away, one shoulder barely lifting, a mere hint of a shrug. “Gridania will be safer for your presence.”

I hesitated, then, nodded.

“If you have any preparations to make...?”

I was the one to look away this time. “None.”

He nodded once and turned to leave. Alisaie shot me a glance, but I pretended not to see, and followed after Alphinaud.

The trip to the East Shroud was made much faster by using the aetheryte that brought us directly to the Hawthorne Hut. Alphinaud didn't speak, not that I had expected it of him. He guided his bird towards the watchtower, without even looking back to see if I was following.

But follow him I did, throttling down the swirl of conflicting feelings inside of me. I _hated_ this – the brittle feeling between us, the cold-shoulder treatment. Especially, I hated to pretend I didn't notice the chill that had replaced a friendship I had leaned on...and come to take for granted. _It's only been a day,_ I kept reminding myself _. He'll get over what happened, but not in a day._

We reached the tower – a matter of only half an hour or so – and left our birds hitched to the post at the bottom. But before we could set foot on the first step, Thancred appeared around the corner. “Well,” he said, lifting one hand in greeting. “Fancy meeting you here. We were about to set forth.”

“Indeed. I was about to say, “Twelve watch over you,” but I doubt you have need of divine protection, even if you are venturing into enemy territory.” Alphinaud's smile was warm as the others appeared.

Yda grinned. “Don't worry, Alphinaud─we'll have the Griffin by the scruff of the neck before you know it!”

Papalymo grimaced. “Do make up your mind, Yda,” he said tartly. “Just a moment ago, you seemed ready to shake the Griffin by the hand rather than the neck. So, which is it to be? It would be best to decide _before_ we enter into negotiations...”

“Trust me, Papalymo: I'll shake whatever needs shaking. The talking part I leave to you!”

The Lalafellin put a hand to his temple, his eyes closed. “I think I feel a headache coming on. Let's be on our way, shall we?”

The four of them waved once more and moved out, as Alphinaud chuckled quietly.

“Ah, some things never change.”

I kept my eyes on the four figures until they vanished beyond a screen of shrubs. I could feel Alphinaud's eyes on me, but when I turned my head, he was already climbing the first steps to the top of the tower.

Silently, I headed up the steps after him.

We reached the observation platform. The four commanders of the Alliance troops had set up an abbreviated version of a command post up here. They hadn't been expecting us, and I knew we'd have a wait before we could speak to them. This was, after all, a watchtower – the room in the center was meant merely to allow a guard to avoid standing directly in the rain.

There were a pair of stools, and Alphinaud perched on one, immediately bending his head and crossing his arms – the picture of someone thinking hard. I rather doubted he was actually thinking much at all. But I left him alone.

It was the best vantage point in the area, and as I stepped to the railing I had quite a view of the imposing black Wall and the land directly in front of it. I could see figures in the Grand Company colors – as well as blue-and-silver Knights of Ishgard – moving around out there, organizing and drilling, no doubt. Alphinaud remained silent, and so did I. The afternoon light turned golden as honey, and the sun began to sink behind the trees.

As twilight fell, the door finally opened, and the four commanders came out.

I turned to greet the commanders. I'd worked with the three Grand Companies enough to know their field commanders reasonably well – but when I saw Hilda standing there, I grinned.

She grinned right back, and told me, “I was hopin' you might turn up. I've dragged half the watch here, see, and the sight of you might help remind 'em why we bothered.”

Alphinaud asked, “What news from the Wall?”

Vorsaile – the leader of the Adders – was about to answer when his link-pearl chimed. “Report!”

Even as he listened, we all could hear the shouts and weapons fire coming from the Wall.

Marshal Tarupin crossed his arms. “So the Griffin has made his move.”

Alphinaud came to the railing and gazed out at the Wall, squinting.

“ _Someone_ has,” Vorsaile answered, his voice taut.

“What's that supposed to mean?” demanded Hilda.

The Elezen commander was pale. “The attackers – they're wearing Grand Company colors.”

The commander of the Maelstrom flattened her ears and her tail began to lash. “We gave no orders!”

Alphinaud's knuckles turned white as his hands clenched on the railing. “Of course... The Wall was never the Griffin's target─it was _bait_. We have been goaded into deploying our armies nearby, thus lending weight to this deception!”

My eyes narrowed as he spoke to the commanders further. I didn't care about their speculating – my friends had just walked into that mess. Had they reached the tunnels before the fighting broke out, or not?

Even as I turned back around, Alphinaud looked to me. “We must make for the Wall at once.”

I nodded, but Marshal Tarupin protested, “What? Just the two of you?”

“Our companions embarked on a mission to sway the Griffin from his course, and are likely halfway to his command post by now. They will emerge in the midst of a raging battle and I do not mean to abandon them to their fate.” Alphinaud's determined stare made the Uldahn commander step back a little. “It will be dangerous, aye, but the confusion may work to our advantage. If we are careful to avoid the skirmishing, it may yet be possible to reach the Griffin...and if we can do that...”

I flexed my fists. “There is more than one way to persuade a man to alter his course,” I growled.

The Marshal eyed us both, then looked over to Hilda. “Lady Hilda─might I ask that you have an airship ready to bear the Scions to safety?”

She laughed. “I don't know who this _Lady_ Hilda is, Marshal, but you can count on me.”

I nodded once and started down the stairs, taking them three at a time. I could hear Alphinaud's boots clattering behind me.

We mounted up, and headed for the Wall.

“From what Papalymo told me, the trail ahead should lead us into the shadow of the Wall. 

As we have two objectives, I suggest we divide our forces. I shall make straight for the tunnels, and attempt to intercept our comrades ere they stumble into a bloodbath.”

I nodded, and watched as his expression tightened. I knew what he was about to ask of me, of course. The same thing that was always asked of me – to fling myself into danger. But it was decidedly strange to watch him struggle with it harder than ever.

“While I do so...I must ask that you scale the Wall. Know that I would not propose such a course if there were any other way. Cut a path through to the Griffin. Make him see reason─by any means necessary.”

“Don't worry,” I answered. “I  _ will _ reach him, and he  _ will _ listen.”

Alphinaud swallowed and focused on directing his bird over a fallen log. “Once we are free of the tunnels, we will make for your position with all due haste. And if everything proceeds according to plan, Hilda will then swoop in and spirit us all away to safety. I only pray that we have enough time.”

We reached a point where the path forked. I started down the path that would lead me towards the access ramp up onto the Wall. After only a few strides, I paused, and looked back over my shoulder.

Alphinaud was watching me with such a troubled expression that I couldn't ignore it.

“Hey.” I offered him a grin. “I'll be fine. You keep yourself safe, you hear me?”

He nodded, and I turned back around and continued on my way.

Ashes and smoke and the tang of blood in my mouth. I knelt on the deck, ears ringing, staring at the small, proud figure. Yda keened, still fighting Thancred as hard as she could.

“Go back!” she shrieked, but Hilda piloted the airship in a sharp bank, and poured on the power.

I winced away from the sudden flash of light – but I looked back as soon as my watering eyes would let me.

A globe of strange light hung in the sky above the Wall, an egg made of crystalline aether and the sheer will of Louisoix's finest student.

Abruptly, Yda stilled. Thancred set her down, though he didn't fully let her go.

She stared at the egg of light, and her shoulders began to shake. Her sobs weren't loud, but they tore at me. She cried like a terrified child, a sound made of uncertainty as much as of sorrow.

I bent my head. No one spoke.

We returned to the Gridanian side of the Wall, and Hilda docked her airship with the tower – a neat trick, but one I could barely appreciate beyond being grateful that I didn't need to climb all those stairs.

Conversations swirled around me: Hilda demanding to know just how Ilberd had got his hands on Nidhogg's eyes, since the eyes had been cast into the abyss; Alphinaud's murmured responses to Marshal Tarupin's questions. But my eyes were glued to Yda, and to Thancred standing beside her. I had seen her grieve for Moenbryda. This...this was different. I had a sudden flash of fear that she'd hurl herself over the railing, and before I could stop myself I had stepped close to her.

“Why?” She whispered, to no one at all. “Why didn't you let me stay? Papalymo...is my friend! I should have been there with him!”

She whipped around and pushed past both me and Thancred, running down the stairs.

“Papalymo knew what he was doing. I could not refuse him,” Thancred said. I set my hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and then both of us followed after Yda.

We found her standing on the bluff, south of the tower, just standing there and staring at the strange, beautiful, awful sphere that hung in the sky. The light of dawn seemed to reflect off its surface, painting it in delicate colors. I noticed the crimson stain on the eastern horizon and recalled the old saying in Limsa about red skies in the morning.  _ A storm is coming _ .

Thancred stood just behind Yda, and I one more pace back.

He touched her shoulder. “You could see it in his eyes, Yda. He knew what he was doing─what had to be done. Master Louisoix wore that same look, right before the end.”

Yda struck his hand off her shoulder, rounding on him. Her face was blotchy and red from her tears, and the cloth part of her mask was soaked and smudged with soot. She spat as she snarled at Thancred. “Do you think I don't know that!? I know, all right!” Then her shoulders sagged, and she sobbed once, a ragged sound. “I know.”

“There is nothing more you could have done. Ilberd caught us all off guard. Even Berylla was powerless to stop him.” Thancred spread his hands. “If you must blame someone, then blame me. Just promise that you will never forget what Papalymo strove to protect, or the lessons he tried to teach you...”

“Don't.” Yda turned away, wrapping her arms around herself, head bent. “Don't speak to me.”


	67. No Rest for the Weary

I walked back to the tower alone. Thancred had waved me off, and I knew he would watch over Yda. As I approached the tower I finished fixing my braid, finding a small amount of comfort in the simple task.  _ I need a hug, but I doubt I'll get one anytime soon _ .

Alphinaud was waiting for me at the bottom, with his healing kit already prepared. I let him examine me, wash the soot off my face and arms, let him chant his spells and heal what he could.

I watched his face while he worked, and saw the pain in his eyes. “Are you going to be all right?” I asked him, quietly.

He wrung out the cloth and sighed. “I find myself at a loss for words.”

“Thancred said we should go back to the Rising Stones. He said he'll stay here, with Yda. She...needs some time.”

“Thancred is right. We must return to the Rising Stones and apprise our companions of...all of this.” For a moment, he hung his head. “How many more must we lose...?”

I reached for him, then pulled my hand back.

“I will send word to Y'Shtola and the others of our imminent return,” he said quietly, beginning to pack his healing things away.

“I'll tell the commanders,” I answered, and took myself upstairs.

We returned in much the same way we had arrived. There was no accord between us, and neither one of us had said a word more than absolutely necessary. The morning was chilly and drab, and mist eddied fitfully outside of town. We walked into the Rising Stones, and Tataru hopped off her chair to greet us.

But her cheerful smile faded as she saw our faces. Krile and Alisaie looked up from where they sat at a table, and their greeting smiles died before they got a word out. Y'Shtola came out from the infirmary, and joined me and Alphinaud. She squeezed my shoulder, and I put my hand over hers, grateful for the small comfort.

Tataru looked at the two of us with rising worry. “Why does everyone look so grim? Has something happened? Say something!”

Alisaie came to stand beside her brother. “It would seem you bring ill tidings, brother.”

“Aye.” Alphinaud's voice was quiet as he related the whole sorry tale – how the Griffin had in fact been Ilberd all along, and the horrifying sacrifice he had made of himself. How Papalymo had contained the threat...for now.

Y'Shtola's hand on my shoulder tightened. “By the Twelve...”

Alisaie frowned. “I don't understand,” she muttered. “To attempt such a magic requires every speck of one's aether. No one─not even Grandfather─could cast it and hope to survive...”

Alphinaud nodded. “Indeed. It was ever a last resort─as I am certain Papalymo was aware.”

For a long moment, all of us were silent.

“I have as yet been unable to explain how Ilberd came to possess Nidhogg's eyes...” Alphinaud began.

Y'Shtola made a cutting motion with her hands. “Perhaps it was the work of an Ascian,” she said curtly. “Now is not the time for speculation. Krile, I have need of your assistance.”

Krile looked up at her, startled. “Y-yes, of course.”

“We must inspect the cocoon of light, and ascertain the state of the primal trapped within. Between our respective talents, I daresay we shall glean some measure of insight.” Her words were brisk, but I'd heard her speak this way before. She was hiding her own pain.

Krile seemed to understand, too. “I can't promise I'll be able to sense much through the barrier, but I shall certainly do my best,” she said, and followed Y'Shtola out of the room.

Alisaie stared after them both. “Without so much as a by your leave?” she muttered.

“Better to get something done than to stand around crying,” I shrugged. “At least, for Y'Shtola.”

Her cheeks went a little pink. “I shouldn't be so quick to judge,” she nodded. “Surrendering to sadness and regret would be a poor tribute to our friend's sacrifice.”

Alphinaud's voice was firm. “Quite. We must begin preparations to face that accursed creation without delay. What time we have was purchased at too dear a price for us to squander it.”

“What preparations?” I asked. “We don't know what sort of monstrosity is going to come out of that egg.”

“Research,” he answered. “Much as you might hate the notion, for now our best source of information is going to be books. Specifically, hunting down whatever we can about the myths of Gyr Abania and the Near East. I can only assume that Ilberd had something of that nature in mind when he...fell.”

“So you think he summoned some kind of mythical creature?”

“It is my best guess.” A hint of his old arrogance flashed in his eyes. “And my best guess is quite a bit more useful than most such.”

Alisaie spoke. “Well, that means a trip to speak to Urianger at the very least.”

“Yes, and possibly a visit to Master Matoya,” Alphinaud nodded. “But I shan't speculate for now. First, to gather what tomes I can.”

“I'll stay here,” Alisaie told him. “I can help look over anything you bring back, and coordinate other sorts of searches as needed.”

I started to speak, and Alphinaud lifted his hand. “This is going to require very little brawn, I'm afraid.”

I shut my mouth with a snap. Alisaie's eyebrows went up, and Alphinaud glanced from her to me and then to Tataru, who was giving him a scowl.

“A word, Alphinaud,” I said quietly, but with a hard edge to my voice. “Personal business should not intrude on Scion business, wouldn't you agree?”

His ears were red, but he nodded once, and followed me as I walked outside.

I waited until we'd found a reasonably quiet corner outside. Then I rounded on him.

“All right, Alphinaud. Let's have it out, right now.”

“I will not fight with you.” He crossed his arms and looked at a point just above my shoulder, looking both stubborn and embarrassed.

“I don't particularly mean a fight,” I answered, “but this is ridiculous. I can understand if you're upset with me. But, you're drawing some attention to yourself as you already noticed...and I don't know about you, but I don't want to tell your sister about what happened.”

His face went pink. “No. No, she does  _ not _ need to know.”

“So then,” I spread my hands. “Let's keep it simple. Are we even still friends? Or have you decided to hate me?”

He started. “Well. You certainly do not waste words.”

“Have I ever?”

He swiped at his hair and started to nibble a fingernail. He looked at the raw flesh and grimaced, and dropped his hand again. Then he sighed. “I don't know,” he said finally.

“Okay.” I tugged on my braid. “Well, for my own part, I don't hate you. At all. I'm not happy about...about...” I had to swallow hard. “I'm not happy, let's just leave it at that.”

“Nor I.”

“I know. And whatever you decide, in the end – I just want to say that I'll abide by it. I would miss your friendship very much. But I know I hurt you and...” My knuckles were white as I gripped my hair. “I suppose this does mean hugs aren't allowed any more.”

He gazed at me, and I forced myself to keep my eyes on him, even though I wanted to hide from the pain I saw there. Pain I had caused, even if there really hadn't been any other choice.

“Perhaps it is best, for now,” he agreed quietly. “I...need time. Time away from you.”

I nodded. “Okay.” Tears brimmed in my eyes but didn't spill over. “You have a long trip, then. Tell Urianger I said hello.”

I turned around, and walked away.

I paced along the rocks, just out of sight of the gates. The view of the lake was quite nice from here, but I paid it no mind. Instead I wrestled with myself, trying to piece together some semblance of a normal attitude.

I had cared about Alphinaud for a long time. With Y'Shtola, he had been my first friend among the Scions. When had he stopped seeing me as just a useful ally? When had he started to think of me as a romantic interest? And why hadn't I stopped him earlier?

_ This is all my own fault. I knew how he felt. I should have been firmer about saying no before. I should never have reached for him the way I did. Of course he would want to act on his feelings if he thought he had a chance. _

As I paced, I cried silently. I wanted him to smile again. I wanted to hold him and to be held. I wanted his comfort, so badly it made me shake. I had grown too reliant on him for that comfort, had taken him for granted in that way.

_ Well, I just lost that privilege _ .

For a moment I contemplated returning once more to Ishgard. But no. Aymeric would be up to his eyeballs in work, trying to coordinate a huge military operation on top of his duties as Speaker. He'd be lucky to see his bed of a night. And I had no right to impose on him – I was a friend, a sometime lover, but I had no claims on him. Just as he had no claims on me...no one did.

And I _wanted_ it that way. I had lost so many, and had seen so much grief. I still had nightmares, sometimes, about Count Edmont weeping; about the faceless crowds of people cheering my name one moment and cursing me for the loss of their sons and daughters the next. I wasn't ever going to lead a normal, quiet life – and if I was honest with myself, I was okay with it. I couldn't really see myself farming for a living, or working in a kitchen somewhere – the very idea was as foreign to me as the notion of playing the noble lady, sitting around in Aymeric's garden and planning fancy dinner parties. I wasn't made for that kind of life.

I treasured the things I'd seen, the victories I had known. I was glad to have enough power to help people – in small things and in large things alike. I had more control over my own life than anybody else I knew. I was special, and I knew it.

I  _ had _ needed Alphinaud, after that bloody damn banquet. But it was time – past time – that I let that go. I had been unfair to him, letting him believe he had a chance, taking comfort without offering anything in return. Even though part of me wanted to give him exactly what he wanted, a much larger part wasn't about to let that happen. Not yet.

Had my own neediness cost me a friend? Well, if it had, then it had. All I could do was wait, and try not to jump to any conclusions.

But gods, was this going to be  _ difficult _ .

Alphinaud was gone by the time I returned to the Rising Stones. Alisaie gave me a piercing look, and I shook my head at her, hoping she wouldn't try to talk to me right now. I stepped over to the board where some of the other Scions had taken to leaving notes – tasks they'd taken on, or things they had heard about, and reminders of various sorts.

_ Hmm, what's this about treasure in the Hinterlands? Well, why not? Treasure hunting might be a nice change. Distract myself. _

I turned toward the door, only to find Alisaie blocking my path, arms crossed, frowning.

I sighed. “Alisaie...”

“I'm not taking no for an answer this time, Berylla.”

I pulled on my braid. “Can we at least not do this  _ here? _ ” I pleaded, keeping my voice down.

She tapped her foot, but then nodded once, sharply. “Fine. Lead on.”

I trudged back out, and then outside the walls once again, until I had her far enough from the gates that if – or when – the shouting started, we wouldn't get anyone's attention.

“He was crying, Berylla.”

“He wasn't the only one. Why won't you just leave this alone?”

“I never let anyone hurt my brother before this, and I'm not about to let you do so just because you're the Warrior of Light.”

I rubbed my eyes and let out a long sigh. “Okay. He didn't want to tell you, neither do I. Which part of  _ personal matters _ is hard for you to accept? Why continue to prod us about it, when there's nothing you could do about the situation even if you did know?”

She bit her lip. “Back at the Studium,” she said slowly, “Girls would flock around him. They were oh-so-happy when he would notice them, and they would flutter most prettily over his gifts and his sketches of them.” Her eyes darkened. “And then they would want nothing more to do with him, the moment they discovered he would not be milked for money and expensive presents. They never wanted to be near him after he said no to them.”

She met my eyes. “I hated them, and I made them regret ever laying eyes on my brother.”

“I didn't lead your brother on,” I grated. “I'm not some feather headed flirt, Alisaie, you know that.”

“I do. I trust you. But I haven't ever seen him so distraught.”

“Well, he made me pretty distraught too,” I snapped. “And we've done what we can to work it out for now. Do you plan to treat him as a baby all his life, Alisaie?”

The words turned in my mouth and I sucked in a breath.  _ I'm doing the same thing, aren't I? Telling him he didn't know what he was getting into _ ...

She stared at me, looking as offended as a wet cat.

“Please.” I spread my hands. “Just don't. Don't meddle with me, or him. He's going to figure out what he needs to figure out, and if he chooses to talk to you about it...”

She turned away.

“If you feel like you need to beat me up, come try it,” I told her, my voice thick. “I'll probably let you.”

She lowered her head for a moment. “I'll stay out of it. But it makes me half mad to see both of you hurt like this.”


	68. Time and Time Again

I brought Midnight in for a landing, and let her loose to go enjoy herself. I cast an eye over the tiny camp – not much here, only a bare excuse for a fire and a few crates bearing the Ironworks mark. Biggs and Wedge stood near the gigantic metal – ramp? Hand? – which still exuded steam and occasional clanks, pings, and other assorted noises.

Biggs looked over his shoulder as I walked up. “Berylla! Come to see the colossus, eh? The chief has us looking for a way in. 'Course, there's a bleedin' barrier around the thing─aye, another one...” He rubbed the back of his neck a little, grimacing. I could imagine Cid's annoyance with yet another uncanny and impenetrable barrier. “Luckily for us, when the big feller came down, its hand clamped onto the shore here, punching a hole in its defenses, and leaving that round portal there unprotected. Only trouble is, it's locked and doesn't seem to have a key. For want of a better idea, Wedge is listening in to Illuminati link-pearl communications, in hopes they'll mention the trick to opening it.”

I glanced down at Wedge. He half knelt beside a small device, muttering to himself and making some kind of notations. He seemed to have crossed out a lot of them, though.

Biggs nudged him, and he looked up, his brow creased. “There's only one signal coming from inside the giant, and it's always the same pattern. I'm _certain_ it's a code─the Illuminati always use coded messages. From what I hear, they've developed a special kind of crystal specifically for transmuting link-pearl wave-forms.” I blinked at him, working through the jargon for a second. “If we could get our hands on one, the chief's decoding machine here should theoretically be able to use it to untangle the meaning. Quite where we'd find such a crystal is another matter.” His little shoulders slumped.

The goblin tasked to stand watch over the giant spoke up. “Does uplander know Roundrox? She makes great collection of junk and things. Maybe is keeping crystal at Shortstop?”

Wedge brightened. “Wouldn't that be a stroke of luck!” He dug in the pouch at his waist, and held up a very small bag, which he brandished at me. “And it just so happens I've been working on a means of identifying the crystal in question! Here, Berylla─take this 3G7-001B! Sprinkle that powder over this so-called collection, and look for anything that glimmers. It should contain the material we need. You may have to borrow one of Roundrox's treasures, but I'm sure she won't mind if you tell her it's for a good cause.”

I caught the bag as he tossed it to me and held it in my palm. It was very heavy for its size.

“I designed 3G7-001B precisely for a moment like this! I do hope it works!” Wedge's grin faltered a little. “Ah! I almost neglected to mention: if you sprinkle it on something and it starts to smoke─ _run away_.”

At my startled glance, he waved his arms a little, in a manner meant to be reassuring. “I-I don't expect it will, though! Just, uh...keep that in mind, all right?”

For a moment I considered handing back the invention, but then I shrugged a little. _It's not like I haven't handled plenty of explosions, unexpected and otherwise_.

The glowing stone had decoded the beeps – sort of.

“ _Coeurl lousing!?_ B-But I'm sure that was the only message! This has to be some sort of jest!” Wedge spluttered.

Biggs poked the smaller engineer's shoulder. “Don't be daft, Wedge. It's just another code. You need the proper crystal and the proper knowledge to understand it.” He sighed and scratched his head a little, staring up at the giant. “Bleedin' Illuminati... Should've known it wouldn't be so easy.”

A voice spoke behind us.

“Quite the conundrum you have there.”

The three of us turned. My hand went to my axe for a moment before I saw that the newcomer had her hands raised, palms out, with a pleasant and calm expression on her face.

A woman – of the same race as Yugiri, by the scales and horns – wearing well-made and well-worn armor. Her hair and eyes were very blue, and her smile was small and just a little bit sly.

“But it's your lucky day. I'll crack the code─assuming we can come to a little arrangement,” she drawled. Seeing the interest on Biggs' face, she continued. “I'm a treasure hunter by trade, and there's a certain something I want inside the giant. I help you get inside, you help me get out with it. A fair deal, no? The name's Mide, by the way.”

I let my hand fall to my side, for the moment. I was dead certain there was more to what she wanted than a mere trinket. And how did she know anything about the insides of a giant that had been locked up all this time? Until a few days ago, it hadn't even been accessible by the Illuminati.

But Biggs and Wedge seemed more eager than wary. Wedge spoke up. “Uh...charmed, I'm sure. You are aware that the interior is almost certainly swarming with Illuminati, yes?”

Mide lifted one shoulder. “Why do you think I came to you? There's strength in numbers, friend. Best we join forces, eh?” She paced over to Wedge's device, with the glowing stone sitting on top of it. “Now, the words you intercepted are largely gibberish. But paired with the numbers─well, you'll see. “Seven, stop, three, stop, two,” wasn't it?”

She looked over at Biggs. “You, the big one─see the pipes atop the hatch?” She pointed. “There ought to be a valve up there, with a hand-wheel. Imagine it's a clock, and try turning it right to seven, left to three, and then back to two.”

I watched as Biggs clambered up on top of the thing, found the wheel, and – heaving a bit – cranked it around the requisite number of times. I glanced at Mide, and saw that she looked very confident in her solution. More than confident. She'd done this before, perhaps?

Biggs turned the wheel the final time, and then staggered a little as the whole metal hand shifted. Steam hissed, and something clanked rhythmically inside. Then, the round door opened with a whirring whoosh.

We had our way in.

Wedge did a little jig in place. “We did it! Ahahaha! We did it!”

Biggs started to say something, then paused, looking at something behind me. I turned to see Cid walking up to us.

“Ah, progress!” He nodded to me and stopped beside me, crossing his arms and listening as Wedge excitedly explained. “...So the Illuminati have been announcing the way to enter the colossus all along? Strange. Well done for cracking the code, anyway.” He shook his head, his white hair tossed by a breath of breeze off the river. “I had less success, sadly. I'm afraid Brayflox knows little more than we do about the Illuminati's plan or the primal.”

Biggs had made his way back down and came to stand with us as Cid spoke. He sighed, looking concerned. Cid shook his head a little and spoke in a lighter tone.

“Come, come, things aren't as bad as all that. We've found a way inside the machine; we'll just have to learn about it as we go. It's only a massive mammet, after all. Stopping it should be as simple as destroying its core. If we send in a suitably intrepid team of surveyors, I don't see why we can't trace the machine's power back to the source via the struts and piping.”

He looked right at me and grinned a little. “And I know just the woman to lead the party. What say you, Berylla?”

“I say that's pretty much exactly what I signed up for,” I laughed. No matter what else happened here, I certainly wasn't going to be wasting time worrying about Alphinaud or that damned egg.

“And what of me, pray tell?” Mide inquired. “I opened the way for this grand expedition of yours─surely that's earned me a place in your little band to hunt for my treasure.”

Cid eyed her, and I had the feeling he knew a little more about her than we did. Had he seen her around some other time, perhaps? But his answer was calm, with no suspicion in his tone.

“You did as you promised, and you may do as you will now─but only so long as your treasure hunt doesn't endanger the mission.” He gave me a regretful look. “I'd join you if I could, but there's something I need to see to first. I'll leave Biggs and Wedge here in case of emergencies. Good luck, my friend!”

We returned from our first foray into the great colossus with very little to show for our efforts – but a great deal of food for thought. Most of the other adventurers who had helped out scattered, eager to trade their strange cogs and gears with the goblins at Idyllshire. I stayed behind, contemplating the hulking metal construct and wondering how much more there was to it, if one arm was that huge...

All the while that we'd been rampaging around in there, I had felt as if someone was watching me, as if the structure was alive and aware of us. It made my skin crawl.

Mide stood to one side, her head down, listening to little Roundrox chatter at her about “whirlycogs” and other such. She seemed to have set aside her worry over whatever treasure she was after. If the Illuminati leader was to be believed, it seemed the treasure wasn't actually inside the giant after all. The two of them walked off, the little goblin gesturing with excitement.

I went over to where Biggs and Wedge had set themselves up with crates for seats. I kept my words brief as I reported what had taken place inside the giant, but Biggs looked astonished anyway.

“Bleedin' hells! Face-to-face with the head of the Illuminati, eh? Sounds like you had quite an adventure! And this “Alexander Initiative” has got me wondering... Do you reckon it might be the giant's name?”

“Probably,” I shrugged. “But a name doesn't tell us much about what the goblins intend to do with this...this...overgrown mammet.” I found it a little easier, thinking of the colossus as merely a very large automaton. _There's no way something like that is actually alive. Just nerves, that's all._

“No sign of the core though, eh? Well, we'll just have to look further in. I'll let the chief know, anyway.” He cast a glance after the treasure hunter and the goblin girl, and half smiled. “He'll be happy to hear Mide and Roundrox are safe, too. Those two haven't stopped talking about machines since they got back. I can't say I've ever thought of junk as _pretty_ , but each to their own.”

“Indeed.” I yawned. “Well, for the moment I think I'll leave you to watch over things.”

He waved me off with a grin, and I sauntered away, whistling for Midnight.

Finding a quiet place to sleep, out here, wasn't that hard. After checking to be sure there wouldn't be rain tonight, I set myself up on one of the roofs in the Answering Quarter.

Sleeping in Idyllshire was right out. The place was never less than bustling, because half the goblins were active all night long. Something about shifts and productivity. Add in the fact that there was no actual inn...

One of the non-goblin residents had tried to convince me to try sleeping in the gardens, but that had hardly been restful, because the man was bent on convincing me to try him as well. My smile was bitter as I dug in my pack and dragged out what I needed for a cold supper. _I wonder if he's still limping._

All the buildings here were abandoned, of course, but they were altogether too uncanny for me to find them restful. Even the ones whose doors had not been ripped off their hinges held a sense that they weren't empty. Whispers seemed to drift in the corners among the cobwebs, and odd little noises that wouldn't have been out of place...in a _wooden_ structure; and all the houses were stone here. It was just too creepy to try to camp in any of them.

I munched on vegetables and a couple of the rather huge and delicious mushrooms that grew around here. There was nothing to clean up, afterwards, and I simply lay back on my bedroll and put my hands behind my head, staring up at the stars.

I wondered, briefly, what Alphinaud was doing. _By this point, probably talking Urianger's ear off about that egg. And poring over books of course. I hope he's stopping to eat and sleep, at least once in a while._

I dragged my mind away from him and tried to think about Aymeric instead. He, too, was likely up late, working. Was he taking care of himself? Were his worries any less, now that he was leading his nation along a road they had never seen before?

I had found, in my pack, the green cloak. Jarilant must have packed it for me, before I left last time. Even remembering the last time I'd used the cloak made me smile.

Maybe I'd have time to see him again soon. Once this giant colossus was dealt with, I'd _make_ some time for a trip to Ishgard. Assuming the damned egg didn't hatch before that.

So much was literally hanging over our heads right now. The Empire was awfully silent about what had happened. Why? Why weren't they pouring troops into the area to retake it? Were the Alliance leaders hearing more about it than us Scions? They wouldn't call on us until they needed us, so...for now, the silence was a good sign. _I hope_.

I sighed and shut my eyes, concentrating on relaxing, letting my mind go blank, until finally, I fell asleep.

Morning came with a chill wind in the hinterlands, always. The cold woke me, and I stretched and made myself a mug of hot tea. Wedge's “travel kettle” wasn't good for much more than a single mug, but then again that was all I needed. Tea downed, I cleaned up what little mess I'd made and packed. Then I flew Midnight over to the colossus as the sun broke over the mountains.

The door was opened, and Biggs was just heading towards it as I landed.

“Mornin'!” he waved. “Come on, we're exploring a bit. Since you cleared out the area, we decided we'd map out what we can. It might help in the search for the core.”

I followed him inside. They'd strung lights on one side of the passage ways. “Easier on everyone,” Biggs said to me over his shoulder. “Folks might get lost otherwise. This way it's easy – coming in the lights are on the right, if you're leaving they're on the left.”

“Huh. Smart,” I nodded, and he beamed.

We reached the last chamber that I and the other adventurers had cleared. Mide was there, among the engineers, patiently sorting through a pile of armor and belongings. I was glad the bodies had been disposed of quickly, at least. In the hot, close quarters, the smell would have been...bad.

I watched as the blue haired treasure hunter picked over and placed items into separate piles – armor here, tools there, coins in a conveniently upturned helmet. She had to have been at this for a while: the pile in front of her was quite small.

I heard footsteps on the metal walkway and turned to see Cid striding in. He smiled at me.

“Ah! There you are, old friend. I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever find you. Biggs's account left something to be desired, so I thought it best to see the interior with my own eyes.”

“Of course,” I grinned briefly. “It wouldn't have anything to do with wanting to get hands-on with the giant mammet, not at all.”

We laughed, the easy laugh of good friends. When he turned his attention to the engineers around us, I let my smile fade. Would I ever laugh with Alphinaud like that again?

Cid noticed Mide, and walked over to her, eyeing the piles of sorted stuff. I joined him. “Hm! A treasure hunter, through and through. Tell me, what exactly do you hope to find here?” he asked her.

She sat back on her heels. “Ever heard of the _Enigma Codex_? It's a book of ideas written some hundred years past─the life's work of one of the greatest technologists ever to draw breath. Within its pages are found myriad wonders─from designs for machina that could operate ceaselessly for centuries to novel ways of culturing cheese. Even a fragment of the book could bring a king's ransom.” Her eyes glittered as she looked up at us. “But most remarkable of all are the plans for a walking citadel. It was to be a beacon of logic and reason for all the world.”

Cid's eyebrows went up. “A _walking_ citadel?” Then he glanced around. “Seven hells! We're standing in it, aren't we!? The Illuminati's primal took its form from that idea!” He gazed around the room once more, before shaking his head a little. He turned his eyes to Mide. “But I sense that none of this is news to you. You've read it, then, this _Enigma Codex_?”

She nodded, and turned back to her sorting. “The design catered for every needful thing, from warm beds to crops of grain. Its occupants would never have to leave. And all in a fortress on feet, impenetrable and ready to move at a moment's notice.” She placed the last piece of armor into the proper pile, and stood up, stretching. “The citadel was meant to bear the most brilliant scholars and artificers of the age to all four corners of the world, that they might set about unraveling the mysteries of creation. And this utopia...this shining seat of erudition, was to be called _Alexander_.”

“Thus the Alexander Initiative,” Cid nodded. Then he frowned. “And what exactly would the Illuminati do with all of this knowledge?”

“Take control, most likely,” Mide shrugged. “Create a world ruled by a few chosen scholars. Unless I'm mistaken, that's why the Illuminati exist.”

Cid scowled at that. “Bloody fanatics. Take a perfectly good idea and make it into an object of faith. What could possibly go wrong...?” His sarcasm faded. “I can well imagine how a people who have spent decades carrying their homes on their backs might crave a home that could carry them─how such a place could seem like a utopia. But we're not talking about a machine here─we're talking about a primal. And primals will be the death of us all.” He gave me that look, the same look he had given me when we were about to storm the Praetorium. “I trust you'll be ready when things come to a head, Berylla?”

“I'm ready, as always.” I grinned a little and tapped my axe. “So long as you point me at what you want killed.”

Some of the technicians came over and helped collect all the items Mide had finished sorting. I grabbed a crate or two myself and lugged them outside. I saw Mide standing with Roundrox again, and after I'd set down my crates, I followed the two of them back up to the Shortstop.

Mide saw me, and paused, letting Roundrox run off toward her treasure pile. She half turned to speak to me, though her eyes remained on the goblin girl. “I think Roundrox's pile of treasures may have grown a touch. Not that that's any surprise─she goes hunting whenever she has a spare moment. Heh. A girl after my own heart.”

“You're not just looking for this codex, are you?” I asked quietly. “If you've already seen or obtained some part of it, I mean – why would you still be hunting? A king's ransom is surely enough to live on for a while.”

She bent her head. “I promise you, I intend no harm to anyone here. But my secrets are my own, warrior.” When she looked up, her eyes were hard. “I shall leave you to yours, if you will do me the same courtesy.”

Her hand went into her pouch and drew out a small tome-stone. She held it up and I could see that someone had labeled it, in neat, spiky letters. Seahawk, the label read, and a date. I felt all the blood leave my face. I knew the date. I remembered, with a flash of shame, what had happened while I had helped explore the Crystal Tower.

My eyes met hers. She nodded once, and tucked the tome-stone away. “I have no need to explain, I see.”

“No.” My mouth was dry. “How...where did you...”

“Not everything is cleaned up from a hastily abandoned camp,” she said with a shrug. “And precious little was left other than the campsite after you and yours sealed off the Tower.”

“We didn't...” I hugged myself. “Given the choice, I think the others would not have sealed it. That decision was not in our hands. And the one who did decide...” I shook my head. “It doesn't matter. I get your point, Mide. I'll stay quiet. But know that I'm watching you.” I met her eyes once more. “And if you need help, you'd better ask. Don't leave me guessing, because I'm really bad at guessing games.”

She smiled slightly. “As you say.” Then she turned and walked away from me, to join Roundrox.

A second and third section of the giant's arm had been cleared and explored. We had even uncovered a spy in our midst – for all the good it had done us. And then – then – the Illuminati had attacked Idyllshire. But the most inept attack I'd ever heard of – making off with useless trinkets after overpowering the guards?

Biggs was scowling. “All they took was junk?” He went pale and his fists clenched. “Hold on. Where were the Illuminati last seen?”

The guard sounded a little confused. “Near the Shortstop...”

Wedge gasped. “Roundrox! Come on!” He ran off, and I started after him.

Biggs shouted after us. “I'll go and find the chief – he'll know what to do!”

The corner where Roundrox had piled her little treasures, even the crates she had used as storage and display, were gone. She sat in the dirt, and even through the mask I could hear her sobs. Mide knelt beside her, patting her little shoulder, but the girl was inconsolable.

Wedge stumbled to a halt beside them. “Is everyone all right? Did they come back?”

“Gone,” moaned Roundrox. “All gone.”

Mide patted her again. “Poor thing... The Illuminati took everything. I'm just glad she was off collecting trinkets with Backrix when they came. I daren't think what might have happened had she been here.”

I shivered and nodded in agreement. The Illuminati had shown themselves willing to murder one of their own in cold blood. A child had no chance with such monsters.

We heard heavy steps and looked up to see Biggs and Cid striding past the fence. Biggs was toting two crates, and Cid had a goblin over his shoulder.

“Come, come, little one. Dry your tears.” Cid threw the limp goblin down into the dirt in the middle of camp. “One thief─unconscious. We found him lurking near the edge of town─not far from your treasure, Roundrox.”

Biggs set the crates down near Roundrox, who had stopped weeping now. She got to her feet, and touched the crates with shaking hands. “Uplander brings treasures home! Thanks to uplander! Many, many thanks!”

Cid grinned a little. “It was all Biggs, little one. He had a feeling a few soldiers might be lurking around, waiting to ambush us, and this is what we stumbled onto when we went to look.”

Biggs blushed and looked away, and Cid chuckled a little.

“But why take her collection?” Wedge wondered aloud. “Surely that wasn't their goal.”

“I wouldn't be so sure. Were I to guess, I'd say that the Illuminati believed something they wanted was hidden amongst Roundrox's pile of trinkets. Rather than waste time sorting through them, they decided to take the lot. But when they subsequently realized they didn't have what they were looking for, they crept back into town to wait for a chance to seize whatever it was they actually wanted.”

Roundrox looked up from her crates. “What if bad gobbies want most favoritest treasure of Roundrox─one that is safe with uplanders?”

“You mean the glowstone that Berylla borrowed?” Wedge asked. When Roundrox nodded, he snapped his fingers. “But of course! It's been sitting in the decoding machine all along!”

“Yes, yes! Roundrox would be sad without pretty glowstone! It is special treasure from near old castle. Rusty one that was left by uplanders, from before.”

Mide's eyes sharpened. “Wait. What do you mean “before”? Roundrox─were you near the Sharlayan ruins when...when the metal giant first appeared?”

Roundrox nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, Roundrox saw whirlycog giant stand three years ago! But was only for a little bit, and big gobbies do not believe Roundrox.”

I fidgeted a moment. “Wedge...” I said slowly. “Is that stone still in the machine, back down at the camp?”

He gave me a sly look. “Nope.” And he fished it out of his pouch. “I had a feeling,” he said smugly.

Roundrox reached for the stone, and abruptly it began to glow.

Mide gasped. “The Codex...!”

“What?”

Roundrox held her palm out. The black stone glowed with power, and hovered over her palm like a pet hummingbird. Mide stared at the stone, its light reflecting in her eyes and sparkling there. “It is a fragment of the Codex,” she breathed. “Of all the places in the realm to be...”

Cid regarded the stone with a frown. “Only a fragment of the original? So that crystal must be the Illuminati's missing piece...well!” Then he shook his head. “We may have stopped their primal and taken their prize, but our foes are not about to admit defeat. They'll be back, and out for blood, like as not. But we've got you, Berylla─and I'm sure you'll be ready for the onslaught when it comes. Might I suggest you make merry till then?”

I eyed him. “You don't want to take the fight to them this time?”

He made a face. “Not yet, anyway. This situation requires some serious thinking.”

“Then I'll leave you to that.” I tapped my ear. “Call me if you need me sooner than tomorrow.”


	69. The Circle Closes

I flew Midnight off to the west, and landed in Matoya's garden. With a night off, maybe I could convince the old woman to play cards or something. And surely Y'Shtola would welcome a break.

But even as I took a step towards the hidden entrance, Y'Shtola appeared. Her ears were flat to her head and her tail was lashing. Her head was down and she was charging down the path so quickly that before I could react, she'd run right into me.

I caught her shoulders in my hands, grunting a little at the impact.

“Oh!” She pulled back, looking up at me with a blank expression for a second. “Berylla?”

“Hey,” I answered. “I just dropped by to check on you. Heard you've been turning the air blue around here.”

She scowled. “I would prefer not to talk about it.”

“Okay,” I said easily. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

She glanced behind her and then back at me. “Get me out of here for a while, Berylla. Please.”

I nodded once, and turned back to Midnight. I mounted up, and then held my hand out to Y'Shtola. Without another word she swung up behind me, and I clicked my tongue to Midnight, who shook her feathers once and took off.

For lack of a better idea, I took her to the roof where I'd been camping the last few nights.

Once there, she hopped down, and just paced for a few minutes. I watched her, and then took care of Midnight, making sure to give her an extra treat for carrying double again. By the time I sent the bird away, Y'Shtola had calmed down considerably.

“I am sorry,” she began, but I waved my hand.

“No need,” I told her. “I take it Matoya has been a tyrant for the last few days?”

“Just her usual exacting and exasperating self,” Y'Shtola shook her head. “I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that there is very little progress as of now.”

“Fair enough. I have the easy part of the job after all,” I nodded. “Killing things is always the easy part.”

She snorted a little, and turned, looking out at the bubble around the giant. In the setting sun, it gleamed, a strange jewel. She wrapped her arms around herself, and her tail went still.

I walked up behind her, and set my hands on her shoulders. Gently. Lightly.

I felt her tremble, and bit my lip. She was upset, with _me_ , and it was past time to fix that.

“You and I should probably talk,” I began, but she lifted her shoulders, and I let her go.

“I am in no mood to talk,” she said quietly.

“Okay,” I answered with a sigh.

She turned to face me. “I need to relax,” she told me.

“I can give you a massage?” I offered.

Her eyes glittered in the dying sunlight. “That will do for a start.”

I pulled out my bedroll and blankets and made a spot for her to lay down. When she stripped to her smalls, I felt the heat rising in my cheeks – and elsewhere – but I kept my mouth shut.

That night in the Toll, when Nero had shown up... _something_ had happened. Y'Shtola had insisted she was fine – but there had been several times when I was certain she was avoiding me. And then – that night in Ishgard...that hadn't come out of nowhere.

I wasn't sure how to talk to her about it all. I still couldn't remember what I had done, exactly, and how was I supposed to just ask a question like that? “ _Mind telling me what I did while I was blackout drunk?” She'd slap me. Ugh, I would slap me._

But right now...right now, I knew what to do next.

She lay on her belly and I knelt beside her. I set my hands on her back, and began to rub, careful circles with my thumbs across the muscles in her shoulders, with my fingertips pressed just _so,_ along her spine. Her tail swished a little, brushing against my side before relaxing to lie against her legs.

I massaged her neck and shoulders, then moved lower, smoothing the knots away. Her skin warmed under my hands, and she purred a little as my fingers found the sore spots and soothed them.

But when I had rubbed away all that tension, I didn't stop. I let my hands stroke across her skin, as twilight closed in and became night. When the moon began to rise, I ran my fingers through her hair, and eased myself down until I lay beside her. I pressed my lips to her shoulder.

I heard her breath catch, felt her shiver.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” I murmured.

Her breath sounded ragged. I rested my cheek against her shoulder, and let my hand lie still against her back.

She rolled over to face me. Her eyes caught the moonlight, nearly glowing.

“You know what I want,” she whispered.

“I only know that you're unhappy. And that I want to make you feel better. Make you feel _good_.” I leaned forward, resting my forehead against her breasts. “Tell me what to do,” I pleaded softly. “ _Command me_ , Shtola.”

She drew a shuddering breath. Her fingers dragged across my shoulders and then she had my head in her hands, pulling me up, her lips fastening on mine. Her kiss was hungry and full of need.

Her hunger woke an answering hunger inside of me. I yanked open my clothes, never letting her mouth go, first fumbling with the ties and then breaking them, too impatient to bother. Half naked, I shivered as the night air swirled across my skin.

I put my arms around her and pressed us close together, skin to skin. She let go of my head to pull out my hair tie. Then she buried her fingers in my hair. Her eyes were narrowed and her breaths came quick and fast and light. I could feel her heart pounding. Her hands shook.

“Tell me what you need,” I whispered against her mouth.

Instead of speaking, she pulled me, tugging me by my hair, guiding my head down. I brushed kisses across her neck, her collarbone, and then her chest bone. She freed one hand to cup her own breast, offering it to me, and I obeyed the silent plea.

She shuddered, crying softly, as my mouth fastened over her already hardened nipple. Her fingers in my hair clenched tight, pulling, and I settled my hand on her hip as I bent to my task. I circled the tip with my tongue, and suckled against it, as she hummed and moaned. Her tail curled around, tickling my ribs. I shuddered, half giggling, and changed to her other breast, feasting, greedy.

She dragged her nails across my back, then hooked her fingers into the waist of my pants and pulled, tugging them down on my hips.

As I had back in Ishgard, I felt her aether touch mine. But when I tried to imitate her, her magic clamped down on me, and she growled. “Don't.”

I lifted my head to stare at her. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. Moonlight shimmered off the tears that streaked her face. I sucked in a breath, and started to speak.

“ _Don't_.” Her voice trembled. “You want me to command you? Don't use your aether. Let me.”

I swallowed, and nodded once. I wanted to ask why she was crying, why she trembled so, but I understood that she wouldn't – maybe couldn't – answer out loud. I _felt_ her answer, as her aether wrapped around me further. I was dangerous, to her.

What had I done to make her afraid of me this way?

She took her hands off me, but didn't uncoil her power from around me. “On your back.”

I obeyed the murmured command. For a moment I heard Nero's voice in my memory, how he'd also commanded me. Fear threaded my spine for an instant before I shoved the memory ruthlessly away. _Shtola would never hurt me. This isn't the same._

Her fingers dragged across my breasts, and her aether dragged across mine. I concentrated, trying to follow what she was doing, trying to _understand_. She was green and silver and mint, and she was somehow _sharp_ against me, like a knife gliding across silk without cutting it.

Bending, she covered my mouth with hers. Her tail slithered against my thigh, and I rocked my hips, trying to elicit more than a delicate touch.

I groaned in mild frustration when she pulled away. But then she was kneeling over my face, her fingers plucking the ties of her smalls and casting the scrap of cloth aside.

I locked eyes with her, and opened my mouth to delicately stroke the tip of my tongue against her. Her eyes half shut and her breath hissed between her teeth.

She was already open, wet, wanting. I set my mouth against her, my eyes still on her face as my tongue explored her folds and traced a circle around her clit. When I flicked my tongue against her, she moaned once. Her head fell back and she rocked her hips against me.

My focus narrowed to the taste of her, the feeling of her warm, slick walls against my tongue, the rasp of her breath as she rode my mouth. My hands drifted across her skin, brushing softly against her nipples, her ribs, her back. Her aether tangled into mine, and she pulled my energy into herself.

The moment she did it, she tensed, her breaths coming faster, harsher. Her sex gushed, juices smearing my face no matter how eagerly I lapped them up. Her hands knotted in my hair, and she ground herself against me. I responded to the unspoken demand and fastened my mouth around her clit, licking and sucking, my fingers digging into her flesh.

She began to whimper, then to cry out, her voice rising moment by moment as I frantically ate her out, until at last she clenched hard, her thighs quaking, and came.

She pulled herself away from me, shuddering. I lay still, staring up at the sky, breathing hard.

After a few moments, she leaned over me again. Her movements were languid, her eyes softer now, and she smoothed my aether even as she smoothed her hand down my belly.

Her mouth fastened on my nipple, and I sighed, my hand drifting to stroke her hair.

She slipped her hand inside my pants, and I wriggled, moaning shamelessly.

But when her fingers slid inside me, she slipped her aether into me too. My eyes shut tight, and I gasped, my whole body trembling. This wasn't like it had been in Ishgard.

Her hand moved against me, her mouth feasted on my breast. Her motions were firm, unrelenting, and her aether heightened it all, making the least little brush of tongue and fingertip feel exquisite – excruciating.

I struggled, weakly, wanting more and not wanting. She shifted down my body, until her lips joined her fingers, and I cried out, soft and desperate, suddenly afraid.

“Shtola, please, no...I can't take any more of this...”

She lifted her head from me, and leaned so that she could look into my eyes. The moonlight was caught in them, and I couldn't look away. Her hand moved against my sex with more force, fucking me mercilessly as I mewled under her, helpless. Those silver eyes never left mine as she flexed her aether deeper into me, flooding my body with pleasure everywhere.

I panted for breath, and then without warning the orgasm was exploding across me, through me, shattering me into a million pieces. I screamed, and arched, my mouth open but no breath left in my body.

She let me go, pulled back, and I went limp. I couldn't see, couldn't move, could only gasp for breath and shudder.

After a long while, I rolled onto my side, to see her pulling on her clothes.

I tried to speak, and my voice came out as nothing but a hoarse whisper. “What was _that?_ ”

She sat down beside me, and combed my hair away from my face. “A taste of your own medicine,” she said, her voice almost as hoarse as mine.

“I don't understand.” I bit my lip.

“Then I cannot explain it any more clearly.” She turned away, hugging her knees. “If a direct demonstration doesn't jog your memory, nothing will.”

I struggled to sit up. “Do you mean I did _that_ to you...back in the Toll, that time?”

She growled impatiently, and shook her head. “I want to go back now.”

“But, Shtola, I...”

“Get your clothes on and take me back.”

I recoiled from her. She had spoken the way she did to the very stupid or very stubborn. Tears prickled my eyes for a moment. Silently I got up, and dug out a different shirt from my pack, since I'd rather ruined the first one. I put my hair back up while she got her boots on.

I didn't bother with the bedding or the pack. I whistled up Midnight, and took Y'Shtola back to Matoya.

She dismounted and looked up at me. “You're a fool, Berylla Seahawk. When this is over, you and I _will_ have a discussion. But I don't have time for it now.”

Without waiting for me to answer, she stalked away and out of sight.

I made my way back, to lay down on the cold bedroll and huddle under a blanket. I was still shaking when I started to cry.

I stood on the cliff behind the Shortstop, staring out at the barrier and the colossus within it. Most everyone had left, now. Everything was back to normal – or what passed for normal, given the nature of goblins. Cid had gone back to Ishgard to do – whatever it was he did when he was actually doing company work. Y'Shtola had left for the Rising Stones already. She had barely spoken to me since that night.

The incredibly unlikely events of the past week rattled around in my head. None of it made sense, even now. Intelligent cats, time machines...madness. All of it. Even what had happened with Y'Shtola was madness. I pinched my arm.

_Nope. Not dreaming. There's no way I'm telling anybody this story. It's so outrageous I don't believe it, and I lived through it. Even Marius would laugh._

_All I wanted to was to distract myself for a while. Maybe I would have been better off collecting wood, or cooking for the Restoration folks, for a week or two. At least then I could have had a warm bed with Aymeric every night._

And yet, we had stopped a primal. We'd saved the world, again. Surely that was a good use of my time...

I winced at my own word play. I turned away from the view, and paused.

Up on the broken wall, a little black cat sat staring at me.

“You again?”

“Mew,” Shanoa replied, and washed her paw.

I walked up, and held my fingers out to her. She bumped her head against my hand, and purred. “So are you going to stand watch over the place?” I asked her.

She leaped down, and wove herself between my feet for a moment, rubbing against my ankles. Then she looked up at me, and said, “Mew.”

“Well then I'll leave you in charge.” I shook my head. “I can't believe I'm talking to a damn cat.”

Shanoa sauntered off, around the corner, and I sighed. _If I think too long and hard about any of this, I'm going to go screaming mad. It's time for me to go._

I turned around, and headed the opposite direction from the one the cat had taken.

The Toll was quiet as I rode in.

I walked into the inn, and through into the Rising Stones, and looked around. Only the usual folks were in sight, and the main hall was almost silent. I wondered if Alphinaud had come back at all.

I saw Alisaie, and headed towards her.

“Ah, Berylla. You're back.”

“I am.” I wasn't sure what else I could say. Certainly not the facts of what I'd been up to.

“Well, the situation in the East Shroud remains largely unchanged,” she sighed. “All our searching yielded precious little result, I'm afraid.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” I tilted my head. “Was the search at least interesting? Did I miss anything important?”

She shrugged. “You wouldn't have found it entertaining. Just masses of papers and books and every table we could spare, jammed into the common room here. Alphinaud holding forth every single night to at least a dozen other scholarly sorts. It was just like being in school again,” and she made a face. I could well imagine the scene, and for a moment wished I had been here.

“You missed our birthday, but that's about it.”

_“I what?!”_

Her grin was devilish. “I didn't think you could yelp like that. Yes, you missed it some time ago. You were probably butchering monsters or the like.” She set her hand on my forearm. “It's nothing to worry about, really, Berylla, calm down.”

I frowned. “Well, I wish I hadn't, and I'm going to figure something out to make it up to you.”

“Birthdays aren't a terribly important event for us.”

“It's important to _me_ ,” I stabbed my thumb into my chest.

“Suit yourself,” she chuckled. Then she lifted her hand as her link-pearl chimed. “Ah, a communication from the Alliance!”

I heard the door open, and looked over my shoulder to see Alphinaud walk in.

He stopped beside his sister as she finished her call; Alisaie looked at us both. “Word from Gridania: the council will shortly be reconvened. The Alliance leaders have already begun to assemble.”

Alphinaud nodded. “They wish to discuss the primal, of course. As of Y'Shtola's last report, the cocoon yet hung above the Wall, unchanged.”

“Yes, but the Elder Seer doubtless shares our concerns about how long it will remain so.” She fixed her brother with a look. “Cid Garlond has been called in to add his expertise to proceedings; you _did_ contact him, brother?”

Alphinaud nodded. “I handed him the Elder Seer's message with my own hands, dear sister. He had only just walked in the door at the Manufactory, in point of fact.”

“How fortunate his operations in the Hinterlands are over,” I observed.

“Well then, I suggest we leave the Rising Stones in Tataru's capable hands and make haste for the Lotus Stand,” she said, and moved off to talk to the Lalafellin secretary.

I looked over at Alphinaud. He wouldn't meet my eyes, but I took the chance to glance over him. His fingernails seemed to be recovered, and he longer had that faintly frenetic air that he got when he was overworking. When I'd left he had been ramping up, and I just knew he'd been drinking coffee by the gallon while the hunt was on. He did look tired, but then again, so did I, probably.

“When did everyone go home?” I asked him quietly, gesturing vaguely at the now empty space where the extra tables had been.

“Three days ago.” The glance he gave me was wary. “It seems that we concluded our search about the same time as Cid concluded his mission.”

“I see. So you were up there purely to bring him that message.” I nodded, looking away from him. “Not looking for me.”

Alphinaud shifted his weight a little. “Quite.”

I kept my eyes on the bar, as if I'd never seen the colorful bottles on the back wall. Things were not healed between us, it seemed. The ache I'd pushed down for the last ten days had condensed into a pebble of weary pain. _At least he's being civil now, I suppose that's something_.

I thought he might say something – but Alisaie came back over to us, nodding, and instead he turned to her. “Let us be on our way.”


	70. Strange Bedfellows

The sun poured down around us, and had the circumstances been less dire, I would have been very pleased. Everyone standing in the circle was a friend, and the Stand was lovelier than usual, bedecked with new spring blooms. Flowers did not bloom in Mor Dhona. I found that I'd missed them.

But the topic of our talk was more than enough to distract me from appreciating the surroundings.

“It shot the Imperials' warship down with a single attack,” the Elder Seer concluded. “There has been no further movement from the Imperial side of the Wall.” She bent her head. “Some few veterans of Carteneau were present and witnessed the incident. They were reminded of the fiery wrath of Bahamut.”

“Another Calamity...” Alisaie breathed.

“It is awake, but contained – we must destroy it before it breaks free,” Alphinaud crossed his arms, frowning.

“Agreed,” Cid drawled, “But there is the small matter of how to get close enough to a being that swats warships from the sky as you would a bothersome gnat.”

Everyone paused for a moment, deep in thought.

The clash of lances interrupted the silence, and I turned to see who had come barging into a Council meeting. _Only someone with colossal stones would...oh. Oh, no_.

Nero stood calmly, almost ignoring the two guards who had blocked his progress with their crossed lances. Even with his shades on, I could feel his eyes on me, and I gritted my teeth at the sight of that insufferably smug grin.

“Is this truly so complex a puzzle?” he asked, his voice pitched to carry across the glade. “Or have you no stomach for the obvious solution?”

Cid looked as if he would lunge for Nero's throat for a moment. “What in the hells are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, Garlond.” Nero smirked. “Now, if you would be so kind as to explain to these good people why you should be begging me for my assistance, that would be most appreciated.”

I felt a prickle down my spine, knowing his words were half directed at me.

“Who is this man?” Aymeric demanded.

The Elder Seer nodded to her lancers, who let Nero through.

The former Imperial sauntered past them, taking off his shaded glasses. He seemed completely oblivious to the dagger-like stares from the lancers, from the Elder Seer's personal guards, and from the two conjurers who also stood guard over the meeting – not to mention Cid's death glare.

He introduced himself, with a more courtly manner, though still far too nonchalant for the situation.

Cid growled at him. “What do you want, Nero?”

“I was getting to that.” Nero cast his gaze around the circle. “As you have – rather belatedly – realized, this entity is alike in strength to the great Bahamut. And the only force in existence which might conceivably contend with such a foe is the very creation which captured the elder primal in the first place.” He waited a beat, as if half expecting one of us to know what on earth he was talking about. “I speak, of course, of Omega.”

The General frowned. “That hulk has been gathering dust beneath the plains of Carteneau since the Allagans breathed their last – and none alive knows how to wake it.”

 _Oh no_. Nero had never admitted to me just where he'd been, why he'd reeked of Allagan machinery, when he had wandered into the Toll. But now...now I _knew_ , without a doubt.

Nero's smile faded at the General's words. “I'm sorry,” he huffed, “but do you know with whom you have the privilege of speaking? I am the mechanical _genius_ who restored the Ultima Weapon to full operational capacity!” He took a slow breath, and continued, in a less strident tone. “I am graciously offering you the use of my _considerable_ expertise.”

“And, what, you just expect us to accept?” Cid snapped. “You're a fool if you think your deeds at the Crystal Tower were enough to win my trust, Nero.”

Perhaps only I saw the tiny flinch of Nero's eyes.

“You wound me, Garlond,” he drawled sarcastically. His eyes raked the Council. “Do you have a better solution? Or will you send your vaunted hero there, as you always do, and pray the world is not engulfed in flame?”

I stared at him, unprepared to hear such words out of the man. He had never seemed to value my so-called heroics, before this. Why did he suddenly sound like he gave a damn about what happened to me?

He glanced over his shoulder at me, and his eyes gleamed.

He returned his attention to the Council, and his words took on something of a lecturing tone. “Let us approach the problem in a more rational manner. Does not the fact that Omega slumbers in stasis point to the existence of some overriding technology? A means of control?”

The Elder Seer bent her cool gaze on him. “And what if we do shackle the primal in the manner you propose?” she inquired. “Would you have us repeat the mistakes of the Allagans?”

“Omega is but a tool,” Nero replied. “How we choose to employ that tool is entirely up to us.” His smirk reappeared. “Of course, if you would rather leave it buried beneath Carteneau while you continue your petty squabbles above, then I suppose that is also your choice.”

Cid was still glaring. “Spare us, Nero. It is a valid concern. He who controls Omega wields the power of the gods. The very power which led the Allagans to destroy themselves.” His words were heavy with meaning.

I eyed Nero. There was no way the man had forgotten all that we'd learned at the Tower. Could he still be chasing the same dream, of mastering all that the Allagans had ever created?

“Then does it not fall to we engineers to prevent such misuse?” His words were completely without sarcasm or arrogance for once, his eyes meeting Cid's without a flinch. “Your company's proud slogan is “Freedom through Technology,” is it not?”

Cid snorted, and looked to me. “What say you? Do we take this villain at his word?”

I saw in Cid's eyes that he wanted me to to say no. He wanted us to throw Nero out on his ear. He didn't trust the man, and I couldn't exactly blame him.

I looked at Nero.

The memory of how he'd acted...back then...stirred. I forced it down. Whatever had passed between us was immaterial now. He showed not a hint of lecherous mockery. His hands were still. He waited.

“He does make a convincing case,” I said slowly. “Though of course, I will keep an eye on him. _Personally_.”

I pretended not to notice how Nero's eyes lit up a little at my words; equally, I pretended not to notice Alphinaud's fleeting scowl, or Aymeric's frown of concern.

Cid shook his head, and sighed. “I don't like it, but I suppose we have no choice.”

He came up to Nero, and then turned to face the circle. “Would the Council be willing to entrust this to a pair of former imperials?” he asked.

The Elder Seer glanced around, and only nods answered her look. She fixed her gaze on the two engineers. “Yes. The task of restoring the Allagan relic will be yours. But the responsibility for its reawakening must remain with the council. Do we condone this course of action?”

Raubahn answered. “It would seem we do.”

He turned to look at Cid. “I appoint you leader of the expedition,” he told the engineer. “You will have authority to enter Carteneau and take command of Omega.”

Then his gaze rested on Nero, though his words were aimed at Alphinaud. “Scions. I request you assign some few of your number to escort Master Garlond...and supervise the other one.”

Nero gave a somewhat theatrical sigh, and shook his head. But I saw him covering a pleased smile as he took out his shades and put them back on.

Alphinaud looked at me, his eyes searching mine. I nodded to him, hoping to reassure him.

He turned to face the General and nodded. “We would be happy to oblige. Given the politics of Carteneau, I dare say our neutrality will prove useful.”

Alisaie smiled suddenly – a smile unlike any I'd seen from her before. “If I recall,” she said sweetly, “Doma is similarly neutral. Might I persuade you to join the expedition, Lady Yugiri?” Her eyes glittered. “If you suspected any foul play from Nero, you would be welcome to kill him.”

Nero started a little, and leveled a concerned frown at the young Elezen.

Yugiri eyed Nero, her face carefully blank. “My blade is yours,” she said simply.

I didn't bother to hide my smile at Nero's dismayed look. “Well,” he huffed a little. “Forgive me if I do not shake your hand.”

We boarded the _Excelsior_ , and Cid lifted off, heading for Mor Dhona.

“If time is of the essence...” Nero muttered. He leaned on the railing beside me, arms crossed.

“It's kept this long. A few hours more won't make that much difference,” I answered, my voice low. “Just how did you know about the meeting?”

He flicked a glance at me, and smiled slyly. “Check your collar.”

I didn't look. “You planted a bug on my clothing. How embarrassing for me. I surely should have checked for pests after spending so much time with one.”

He snickered. “You didn't mind it _that_ much.”

I cast my gaze out over the landscape, and didn't answer. He wasn't entirely wrong...but I wasn't about to admit that.

“That young friend of yours seems most unhappy about something,” Nero said casually. Too casually. “Do you have many admirers, hero?”

“Many admirers,” I answered, deliberately misunderstanding. “The fame is a bit annoying, actually. Though I suppose I should be grateful, no one asks for autographs.”

He slanted a glance at me, and I met his glance coolly. I knew he was fishing, and I wasn't going to rise to the bait.

He snorted and let it drop. I returned my gaze to the trees beneath us, and sighed a little. I hadn't even been able to speak to Aymeric. The ache of missing him was lodged in my chest, hurting with every breath. I wished I had something to hit, so I wouldn't have to think so damn much.

Bringing Nero into the Rising Stones felt decidedly odd. He wandered the main hall, looking all around him. I paced beside him, though Alisaie and Yugiri were also watching him like hawks. Yet he said nothing until he had come to a stop near Tataru's desk.

The Lalafellin secretary craned her neck up at him – he _was_ very tall – and gave him a narrow look. Nero seemed not to notice her measuring stare, and instead spoke to Cid.

“I would have expected an order or self-proclaimed warrior-scholars to surround themselves with the fruits of man's enlightenment. And yet there is not so much as a single piece of magitek in sight.”

I snorted. “Of course _you'd_ assume that magitek is the only thing of importance for us to have laying around.”

“You Eorzeans truly are primitive,” he shook his head with mock dismay.

“Perhaps,” I came back, “it's only that we choose not to rely on circuits and machinery for every little thing.”

Tataru stomped her foot slightly. “And I'll have you know,” she said tartly, “The Rising Stones is home to the very latest in magitek innovation.”

Cid grinned hugely as Nero looked down at her, his mouth open in surprise.

“Wedge calls it the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster,” she told the engineer proudly, “and it's the best kettle I've ever had the pleasure to own.”

Everyone else chuckled; Nero just stared. But it wasn't a sarcastic expression at all. I watched his face, mildly intrigued to notice that he seemed to be truly weighing Tataru's words with care. Had he never thought about his work as anything other than a vehicle to glory?

 _I wonder if he'll take some inspiration from this. Oh, who am I kidding, probably not_.

I watched the lot of them leave for the _Excelsior_ , shaking my head a little. What a strange crew we'd assembled now. Not that the gigantic samurai was unwelcome – he seemed a nice enough fellow, if loud. And if his skills were anything like his _voice_ , then he'd certainly come in handy if there was fighting to be done.

 _It's Carteneau, Berylla. Of course there will be fighting_.

Tataru came up to me. “Berylla! A word before you go?”

“Hm?” I looked down at her. “What is it?”

“So...you remember how I ambushed you a while back?”

I nodded. “Quite well.”

“Well, I just got finished making the outfit. I thought you could use new traveling gear, too. Here it is, go on, try it on!”

_Well, why not?_

I took the stack of clothes from her, and stepped behind one of the screens to change. A very short skirt, a fitted jacket...it was very charming. I swallowed back a lump in my throat, realizing she'd made the thing harmonize color wise with Alphinaud's suit, and Alisaie's. I felt so far from being in harmony with either of my friends right now...but Tataru was waiting.

As I came out, she clapped her hands with delight. “It should be snug but not too snug,” she said. “How does it feel?”

“It's just right,” I assured her. “Though I've never worn a skirt like this, it's not at all uncomfortable, I feel like I can really move in it. You did a great job, Tataru.”

She smiled up at me, but I caught the tremble of her lip. “And I sewed a blood pearl charm in it, too...you know, to bring you home. May it always protect you.”

I knelt down and offered her my hands. She blinked rapidly a few times and then took my hands, squeezing hard. Then, to my surprise, she flung her arms around my neck.

I hugged her carefully, and let her sniffle against my new jacket. “Hey, it's going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Her voice was muffled. “But with you and Alphinaud fighting, and now you're going out there with that Nero fellow, and if _half_ the things I heard about him are true...”

I choked a little. “I'm afraid to ask what you've heard.” I set her back a bit. “I promise you, I'll come back. I always do, don't I? I'm more than a match for Nero, though I really don't think he has any interest in harming any of us.”

“And Alphinaud?”

I sighed deeply. “That one I can't make any promises about. Or even predictions. It's all in his hands now, Tataru, whatever happens.”

She hung her head a little, then shook herself. “Well. Perhaps I'll give him a good talking-to, if he doesn't straighten up.”

I smiled a little. “Of all of us, only you could pull that off.” I stood, dusting off my knees a little. “But maybe we'll come back and all will be right with the world again, eh? Stranger things _have_ happened.”

She managed a laugh, and I waved to her and headed out.

 _Stranger things have happened, indeed_.


	71. Omega Rises

I stood back, arms crossed, as the two engineers muttered to each other. The eerie lights in the walls flickered occasionally, and the glow from the screens did too. Everything seemed much...rougher than most Allagan machines I had seen.

“This is...just about the least efficient system I've ever seen,” Cid commented.

“It's older,” Nero answered, in an absent tone. “I spent a month in here just translating the writing...it's so old that it doesn't quite match the script used at the Crystal Tower.”

“So Omega is older than the Tower – you said something about it being used to capture Bahamut?”

“Or so the records I found indicated.” Nero shrugged. “They were very clear that Omega is a weapon intended to deal with dragons specifically. They were less clear about what dragons, exactly.”

“Where did you find records that old, anyway?”

Nero smirked. “At the tower.”

“You didn't have time to search that whole structure and read everything in it, surely. I _know_ you were working your ass off.”

“I made copies of everything readable, of course. Far more efficient to have copies and read them later, at leisure.”

“Only if you don't also need the context of their location,” Cid protested, and the two of them bickered for a moment, sounding like academics. But they continued tweaking and adjusting the screens, until at last a chime sounded.

“That did the trick,” Cid said. Nero looked annoyed for a moment.

But his expression changed as things began to move around, parts of the room shifting, opening, and new bits lifting up. A console with a big red button appeared in front of the two engineers.

Nero's voice was filled with a level of excitement I hadn't heard before. He was practically cooing over the readouts. He looked like a child opening a much-anticipated birthday present.

Cid looked troubled. “I still don't see any means to control the machine directly. It seems to have been designed to act wholly autonomously...”

He turned to Nero. “Once we release Omega...”

I didn't listen. My eyes were fixed on the strange shape that the screens were showing. Deep inside my mind, I felt a presence I hadn't sensed for many weeks, a whisper from another mind.  
Midgardsormr was _afraid_.

Yda spoke up. “I understood less than half of that. But my question is this: are we doing the right thing?”

I shifted my weight, and the whisper of fear sharpened. _Do not set it free_.

“Is there any other way?” I said at last. “Our other choice is to let the creature hatch and just see what happens.”

Yda nodded. Then, she straightened her shoulders. “All right then. Step aside, Cid. I'll push the button.” With only a moment of hesitation, she brought her fist down on the button.

Nero began to laugh as the whole structure shook.

For a few minutes, readouts scrolled rapidly across some of the screens, and various parts of the robot seemed to light up. Nero was entranced, and muttering to himself with more glee than even the time he'd found out I was ticklish.

But all I could think of was – what manner of power had we unleashed, that even Midgardsormr was _terrified_ of it?

All the screens went to static for a moment. But the images and words were now still.

Both Cid and Nero looked concerned. I watched them as they poked a few things, and muttered. Half the words they used meant nothing to me, but it was plain that Omega had done something unexpected – and unwelcome. Finally Cid did – something, and stepped back.

“I've ordered the malfunctioning beast to go to sleep. That should prevent any mishaps.” He turned to face the rest of us. “I suggest we make our way back to Gridania.”

As the Excelsior flew towards the city, I noticed the stillness first.

We could just see Baelsar's Wall. There was no one on it.

Below us, the Black Shroud was silent – as if the whole forest had held its breath, and was only now relaxing. But it was a slow thing, a watchful thing; like a rabbit poised to flee the moment the hawk reappeared. What had happened out here?

Even Nero was silent as we landed.

Alphinaud was waiting for us inside. “I came as soon as I heard the Excelsior had been spotted on its approach,” he said, mostly to Cid. But I saw his eyes go over all of us, and noticed how pale he was.

The smile he offered was a diplomatic one. “Words can ill express how glad I am to see you all unharmed. When Omega came hurtling towards the cocoon, everything dissolved into chaos.”

Yda had hung back as we all went in, and now she shook her head. “I have to see it,” she said suddenly. “I have to see it with my own eyes...!”

Before any of us could stop her, she had turned and dashed off. Alphinaud sighed. “The Elder Seer is expecting us...”

Yugiri lifted one hand. “Gosetsu and I will watch over her.”

Alphinaud's shoulders sagged a little. “Thank you.”

Cid nodded. “Let's go.” He and Nero walked outside, and I found myself matching my steps to Alphinaud's.

“Are _you_ all right?” I murmured to him.

He only shook his head. Before I could press him, we were already being ushered into the Lotus Stand.

The Elder Seer thanked us, but as soon as she finished, I asked the important question.

“What happened?”

Cid nodded. “Yes, how did the battle unfold? We lost contact with the weapon shortly after it launched.” He shrugged a little. “From our position in the control room, we were blind to all that followed.”

The Admiral pursed her lips. “What words could do justice to such a scene? None of my choosing, that much is certain. But I can give you the facts: the cocoon hatched even as Omega arrived, and from its midst rose a great dragon. The pair duly set about each other in the skies over Gyr Abania.”

“The primal's might defied belief─it seemed the very heavens would be rent asunder by the force of its blows. And it wielded such magicks as I have never seen...and hope never to see again.” Even Aymeric looked shaken as he continued the tale. “The battle raged on with no end in sight, until both combatants were engulfed in a blinding flash of light. When the radiance faded, I saw the pair fall motionless from the sky, coming to rest somewhere on Ala Mhigan soil. I will not speak for the rest, but to my eye it seemed that each had landed a fatal blow upon the other...”

I struggled to imagine a battle so terrifying that it made the fight between Nidhogg and Hraesvelgr pale by comparison.

The Elder Seer nodded. “While most among us could think only of Bahamut when looking upon the primal's form, the Domans were heard to whisper the name “Shinryu.” It would appear that the being resembles a creature of Far Eastern legend, and we have found it convenient to refer to it as such.” She shook her head slightly. “This Shinryu's fate─and indeed, that of Omega─is yet unknown. We have, alas, no eyes on the Gyr Abanian side of the border.”

“Aye. Which is why we have sent our main force, under the command of Marshal Tarupin, to capture the Wall,” Raubahn rumbled. “With the Imperials in disarray, we have the perfect opportunity to secure Gridania's border, and assess the aftermath of the impact. I myself will join the marshal and his men when the council is adjourned.”

“Well, that explains a few things,” Cid said, and looked over at Nero. “I'll wager that flash of light coincided with our loss of contact.” He turned back to the Council.

“Lest you wonder, we quickly reengaged Omega's stasis systems, so even if it has fallen into the Empire's lap, it will be of no use to them─save perhaps as a statue.”

Nero nodded. “Correct. Without _me_ to guide their efforts, it would take them decades to decipher Omega's core functions, if they managed it at all.” For once there was no arrogance to his words – and for the first time since they'd been forced to work together, Cid nodded in agreement.

The Elder Seer smiled at both engineers. “Such reassurances do much to calm our fears─yet the relic's fate is but one of several concerns.”

“Indeed,” nodded Aymeric. “I humbly submit that the time has come for us to make contact with the Resistance representatives in Gyr Abania. Though Ilberd has forced our hand, it would seem only logical to seek an alliance, given the inevitability of Imperial retaliation. And by working in concert, it is not impossible that Ala Mhigo might finally be wrested from Garlemald's grasp.”

I nodded, and said, “When do we leave?”

Raubahn looked directly at me. “ _I_ go to oversee operations at Baelsar's Wall. You have done your part─leave us to handle the initial Imperial reprisal and rest while you may.”

“I'm at least heading out that way to take a look,” I answered. “And to check on Yda.”

He gave me a narrow look, and I half smiled. “I'll stay out of trouble, General.”

He nodded once. “You'd better.”

Cid stayed behind, as did Nero. I tried to hide my relief at being away from Nero at last.

But Alphinaud noticed anyway. As we headed toward the tower, he kept his bird at a walk. “You must be exhausted,” he began, then looked at me. “Or perhaps something else is wrong?”

I shook my head. “I could recite such a list of “things that are wrong in my life,” I'd never shut up about it.” I laughed, a little bitterly. “Don't encourage me to whine, my friend.”

He was silent for a moment. “I...have not been a very good friend, lately.”

I brought Joy to a halt, and he turned his bird so that we were facing each other.

“You said you needed time,” I began, but he shook his head.

“I owe you an apology.” He looked down, and picked at the hem of his coat sleeve. “I was wrong to do what I did. Wrong to take it out on you when you rightly rejected my...advances.”

I bit my lip. “You know I've forgiven you.”

“I still want to make it up to you.” He glanced up at me. “Somehow.”

“The past twenty-three days have been insane,” I told him. “ _And_ I missed your birthday, on top of everything.”

He shook his head, laughing very quietly. “Of all the things to be worried about.”

“Can we just...go back to how we were?” I asked him. “I mean, I know it won't be the same but...I miss you. I miss listening to you read. I miss sitting with you over tea while you laugh at me because tea cups are made too small.” I looked down. “I miss hugging you.”

“I think...hugging might still be too tempting for me.”

I tried to cover my wince with a quick nod. “Okay.”

“I never did get to talk with you about that new book.”

I looked up and met his eyes. For the first time in three weeks, he smiled at me.

I smiled back. “We'll make time for it when we get home.”

We rode up to the tower to see Y'Shtola and Krile standing at the bottom, waiting for us. I noticed how quiet the troops on the Gridanian side of the Wall were, and recalled how deserted the Wall itself had seemed.

I caught the look Y'Shtola gave me before she turned to smile at Alphinaud, and forced back a flush of guilt. She and I hadn't spoken since that night in the Hinterlands...but now was not the time.

“I cannot well express how glad I am to see you both unharmed. They say that Omega's clash with the primal shook the very firmament.” Alphinaud cocked his head a little.

Y'Shtola waved her hand a little. “You need not have worried. The battle took place far above the ground. We were able to observe in relative safety, though I am given to understand that there were casualties on the far side of the Wall.”

Krile was less dismissive. “It was like watching a nightmare unfold before our very eyes. Ilberd's primal manifested in the form of a colossal dragon – a being of pure violence. It burst forth from the cocoon with terrible force...”

Alphinaud's eyes darkened at the mention of Ilberd. His voice was hard. “That such a horror should spring from the eyes of Nidhogg comes as no surprise. Nor do I wonder at its form. Ilberd all but announced it in the moments prior to his death. Plainly, it was his dying wish to visit a second Calamity upon the Empire.”

“And I am quite certain the abomination would have obliged, if it had not found itself outmatched by Omega,” Krile nodded. “I am no stranger to Allagan relics, but even I was unprepared for the machine's ferocity. It beggared belief.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then, Alphinaud shook his head a little, and in a more normal tone of voice, asked, “And how fares poor Yda in the midst of all of this? Have you spoken with her?”

“She is up on the platform, lost in thought. We had thought it best not to disturb her, but...” Y'Shtola lifted one hand. “Perhaps she would welcome some company after all. Shall we?”

Yda stood gazing out at – nothing, really. I knew somehow, despite her mask, that her eyes and her thoughts were far away, and not on the Wall at all.

She didn't turn around, but she spoke. “The light's gone. It was all we had left of him.”

“Yda...” Alphinaud's hand went out toward her, then dropped back to his side. After all, what could he say – what could any of us say to her?

“I don't blame anyone,” she said, her voice tired. “I knew what was going to happen. I knew it would cost him his life...I knew that it would only buy us a little time.”

She bent her head, and brought her hands to her face. I looked away for a moment.

When I heard quiet sounds of cloth and buckles, I looked back. I had been expecting sobs – but instead, Yda had taken off her mask...and her turban.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen her like this – we'd bathed together, all the girls, more than once. But her next words floored me.

“I can't hide in Papalymo's little shadow anymore. And I shouldn't hide behind my sister's mask.”

I gaped at her, as she explained. But Y'Shtola seemed completely unfazed.

“You've known all along, haven't you?” Yda said.

“Of course,” Y'Shtola smiled. “We all recognized you at once. It was Papalymo who persuaded us to maintain the charade.”

“It was silly to think I could fool you. I knew that even then.” Yda shrugged a little. “I just...sort of...decided not to know.”

At that, I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant. And yet...

“Why did you never tell me?”

“I'm sorry for lying to you. My real name is Lyse.” She sighed a little. “When Papalymo brought me Yda's mask, it was meant to be a keepsake. But I decided I wanted to be his new partner...to keep alive all the good she had done.” Her gaze went back to Y'Shtola. “I didn't want to become Yda, exactly. But I barely knew who I was myself...it was easier to play the role.”

I glanced at Alphinaud, hoping he heard her words. He wasn't even as old now as Lyse had been when she took on her sister's name, at least if I had my numbers straight...maybe he'd think about what she was saying.

But she was continuing. “Papalymo agreed to help, of course...but it was never what he wanted for me. He wanted me to walk my own path. And those were his final words to me.”

She looked down, and I saw her fighting the tears down. After a moment, she took a deep breath, and looked back up at us. Her cheerful tone was back – forced, but there. “Whatever I choose to do from now on, I do as Lyse,” she said, “And I choose to continue my family's fight. I want Ala Mhigo to be the country that Yda and my father always wanted it to be!”

Y'Shtola and Yda – no, Lyse – decided to stay. “That way, I'll be close by if anything happens,” she told me. I nodded, and hugged her – not as hard as I wanted to, but I couldn't put into words all the things in my heart.

As she had done so many times before, she seemed to understand me. I went downstairs feeling that she was going to be okay.

Alphinaud was waiting for me. “It was brave of Lyse to remove her mask after so long. Though she has scarce begun to come to terms with Papalymo's loss, that one act made plain her determination to move forward.” He tilted his head up, looking at the stars for a moment. “And should she ever falter, we shall be there to support her on this road she has resolved to walk.”

He looked over at me, and we both smiled a little.

“Let us return to the Rising Stones. We have quite a story to tell Tataru and my sister.”

We returned to Gridania together, but once there, I had a thought. “Go on before me,” I told Alphinaud. “I have a personal matter to deal with, but it shouldn't keep me long.”

He nodded after a moment, and we parted ways.

It only took me an hour or so to put my thought to paper – mainly because I kept starting my letter over. I had never been all that good at writing in general, and since I wanted to be discreet...it was even harder to figure out words than usual. But when I was done, I sealed up the letter and made certain it was on the next airship to Ishgard.

Then, I headed for the Toll.

I walked into the Rising Stones to see Alphinaud waiting for me. I smiled, and reminded myself not to hug him.

He returned the smile. “You should have seen the look on Tataru's face when I recounted Lyse's─ Ah.” Suddenly he blushed. “I realize in retrospect that I should perhaps have waited for you to return...”

I raised my eyebrows at him, and he looked down. “I, uh...also told Alisaie. Apologies.”

I held my expression for a second longer, and then I couldn't help it. I started to laugh.

He looked back up, and grinned a little as I kept chuckling. “It's fine,” I managed after a moment or two.

“We arranged for dinner,” he said, “and were just waiting for you to arrive.”

“Fantastic,” I replied. “I'm starving.”

Alphinaud brought me over to the table, and then took himself off – presumably to tell whoever was in charge of the kitchen today that I was finally here. Alisaie was already sitting down, and smiled at me as I pulled out a chair and sat.

“He may have mentioned, but Alphinaud has apprised me of all that came to pass in Gridania. Your only task now is to rest. This is the calm before the storm.”

“Hm, you're right. How long, do you think? Before they call on us, I mean? I imagine that as we speak, the General has his men on the move.”

“Three or four days at least,” Alisaie answered. She tilted her head, thinking out loud. “Lyse has chosen her path, and as her friends, we must do what we can to support that choice. We are fated to join the conflict in any case. Once the Alliance has taken the Wall and opened the way to Gyr Abania, we will have little choice but to fight.”

She saw me regarding her and added, “Which is not to say the cause is unworthy. After all, ignoring the plight of those whom one might conceivably save is not wisdom but _indolence_ , correct?”

Recognizing her grandfather's words, I grinned.

She grinned back. “I for one look forward to joining hands with the Ala Mhigans, and striking a blow against the tyranny of the Empire─as, I rather suspect, do you!”

Then, Tataru and Alphinaud came out, helping to carry plates and food. I turned my attention to the important task of eating and making sure we all talked about little, commonplace things.

And when the meal was over, I made a point of sitting with Alphinaud and letting him talk my ear off about his new book. I was even able to follow half of what he said, for a change.


	72. Respite

“I'm going to spend a few days in Ishgard.”

“Oh?” Alphinaud's eyebrows went up. “Is anything the matter?”

I ate the last bite of my breakfast – making a mental note to go compliment the cooks, they were improving by leaps and bounds lately – before I answered him.

“No, but I haven't seen Count Edmont in ages. Not to mention our other friends there.” I grinned a little, pouring myself a second cup of tea. “I might even come back with sweets.”

That got Alisaie's immediate attention. She eyed me with an expression so close to pleading that I couldn't resist teasing her.

“Well, I'll have to see. After all, I'm not sure how well Sohm Al tarts travel...” I burst into giggles as she huffed at me.

Tataru tilted her head at me. “Could I trouble you with a short list, then?”

“Why not? So long as you give me clear instructions as to what you want done, which I know you will.”

“Maybe all of us should go,” Alphinaud began. Alisaie slapped his shoulder lightly.

“Oh no you don't, brother. You and I have to finish with putting everything to rights in the library. You're not getting out of doing that!”

He frowned at her, and she frowned right back. I finished the last of my tea so they wouldn't see me laughing at them.

I pushed away from the table while they were still staring each other down.

“I'll be packed in an hour or so,” I told Tataru. “I promise I'll come by and talk with you before I go.”

I smiled at them all, and took myself to my little room.

I didn't really need to pack, so much. But I wanted to go over every single piece of my clothing, even the things I had never worn in Nero's presence. Just in case.

_The last thing I need is that smug son of a bitch showing up in Ishgard. I'm lucky he didn't come nosing around while we were dealing with Alexander._

I had only been at my task for fifteen minutes, when there was a tap on my door.

“Come in.”

Y'Shtola stepped inside, closing the door and leaning her back against it. Her tail swished, restlessly.

I had thought a lot about the last time I'd been with her. About the things she had said, the things I'd felt, muddled as I was about all of that. About what I couldn't remember, and should have remembered.

I had tried to prepare myself for this talk, I had known it was coming. And now here she was, and I wasn't ready at all. My stomach trembled.

I finished folding the shirt in my hands, giving myself that tiny space of time, before I spoke.

“I thought you were staying near the Wall.”

“I am not _officially_ here.”

I raised my eyes to hers. “I'm sorry for what happened.”

“Do you even know what you did?”

I shook my head. “I was pretty drunk. I know I did things I didn't mean to do.”

“You used your aether on me,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but her tail lashed harder. “The trouble being, you are not trained in the arts magical. You have raw power and to spare, but _very poor control_.”

“Oh.” I could feel my cheeks reddening. I lifted my shoulders helplessly. “Did I hurt you...?”

“ _Hurt me?_ ” Her eyes widened and her ears went flat. “You really don't know anything, Berylla Seahawk.”

“No, no I don't. But I know I messed up, Y'Shtola, I know you're mad with me, and I know I deserve that.” I stood up. “Do you want to yell at me?”

Her tail lashed, and she pressed her fingers to her temples, her eyes closing. “I haven't slept without dreaming of you since that night. I've had to interrupt my work more than once, to go hide myself somewhere and pleasure myself, because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I've avoided coming to talk to you all this time, because I wanted to touch you too much. Until now, I don't think I couldn't control myself around you. Like that night on the roof. And you still have no idea what you've done to me!”

She took a deep breath, and lowered her voice. “I am appalled that you don't comprehend the gravity of your mistake. Even worse...I am appalled at myself.”

“But...why?”

“Because I wanted you to do it _again_ ,” she muttered, and then she burst into tears.

I stared at her for a moment, like an idiot, before I stepped closer and tentatively put my hands on her shoulders.

She burrowed into me, sobbing.

I held her, gently, rubbing her back a little. I felt like an utter piece of shit. _What is it about me that I do such awful things to the people I care about the most?_

My heart hurt as she cried in my arms. “I'm so sorry,” I whispered.

“Shut up.” Her voice was muffled against my breasts. “Just shut up.”

So I held her in silence, and let her cry.

After a while, she was only sniffling, and I tried again. “Shtola...”

“I never wanted an attachment. Our work is not kind to those we care for. I would rather avoid entanglements altogether.” Her voice was hoarse, and I winced.

“I never meant to make you cry,” I said. “Please tell me what I can do.”

“ _Why_ did you use your aether that way?” she asked, her head still on my chest.

“Because I was drunk. Because I didn't know what I was doing.” I shrugged a little. “I think you did something like that to me, that time in Ishgard...?”

“What I did,” she said slowly, “was similar to using needle and thread. What you did was...” She shuddered in my arms, her hands knotting in my shirt. “What you did was to that as a battering ram to a needle.”

“Oh.” _Oh gods_. “What...I...Shtola, I'm so...”

“Don't you dare say it again.”

“Okay, but...but I-I never meant for this to happen.”

“I know that.” She pressed her forehead against my chest bone.

“What do I do, then? What do you need from me?”

“I need you to promise me you'll never do that again. To anyone.” She took a long breath. “And promise me you will complete the training you started. More than that. Learn _everything_ you can about your aether, Berylla.”

“Okay. I promise.” I set my hands on her shoulders, setting her away from me just enough to look down at her face. “I'll work on it as much as I can. Even out in the field if I have to.”

Her silver eyes searched my face. I wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs.

“You're right,” I told her, “that romance isn't a good idea for any of us Scions. But I do care about you an awful lot, Shtola. If I had known...I meant only to be a better playmate.”

“I know that, too.” She leaned into me once more, sighing. “I have no intention of bringing this up ever again. But you needed to know, to understand. _I_ needed you to know.”

I hugged her, tucking her head under my chin and stroking her hair. “You have been one of my truest friends,” I told her. “You mean a lot more to me than I have words for. I hope that can be enough.”

She didn't answer, only slid her arms around my waist for a moment, pressing close.

I sat down for a while after she left, just holding my head in my hands. _Gods, gods, what a fucking mess. Maybe I should swear off drinking_.

Eventually I got back to folding my things and putting them back in my pack.

Just about the time I had finished that, there was another tap on my door.

I sighed a little, but I went ahead and opened the door.

Alisaie stood in the hall. “May I come in?”

I blinked at her for a moment, then stepped back. “Sure.”

She stepped inside, and I shut the door, then leaned my shoulder against it. “What's on your mind?”

“My brother asked me a most unusual question last night,” she said. Her eyes were dancing with humor. “Apparently, he's concerned that he missed your birthday.”

I pressed my lips together, but a giggle escaped anyway. Alisaie laughed quietly.

“So I was thinking,” she told me, “perhaps we can arrange a small, informal celebration. For all three of us.”

I stopped giggling, surprised by the idea. “For all of us?”

She nodded. “Nothing fancy, just dinner together or the like. Perhaps when you return from Ishgard?”

“That...would be...” I swallowed. “That sounds great, Alisaie. You didn't have to think of me too, you know.”

“Of course I did. I don't know when your birthday is either.”

“It's in winter,” I half smiled.

“Then we shall mark our calendars accordingly,” she grinned.

I cocked my head a little. “You're hoping for extra sweets, aren't you?”

She laughed aloud. “I wouldn't object, no!”

Finally I was packed, and ready. I walked out into the common room and came over to Tataru's desk. She gave me a smile and a neatly folded paper. “Everything you need is there,” she told me.

“I'll be sure to take care of this first when I get there,” I promised.

“Travel safely and stay warm!”

I laughed, thinking already about Aymeric. _I hope he got my message_. “I will.”

When I arrived on the landing, Jarilant was already there, waiting for me.

I smiled at him as he bowed. “Welcome, Lady Berylla,” he said.

Then he turned, and led me to the house. No one was about in the streets, despite the hour – I glanced around. “Today is a holiday,” Jarilant said, seeing my expression. “Many are in attendance at the Cathedral even now.”

“Ah, I see.”

We reached the door, and he let me inside. He held out his hands. “I will take your baggage, if it please you.”

“Thank you,” I told him, and handed the pack over.

Even as the steward turned to head up the stairs, I heard footsteps. Aymeric came striding from the direction of the garden, his eyes fixed on me, wearing a wide smile.

I stepped forward into his embrace, wrapping my arms around him, breathing deeply of his scent.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, his temple pressed against mine.

He wasn't wearing his armor, and I slid my hands up and down his back, the silk of his shirt warm under my palms. “I'm so glad to be back,” I sighed.

He took a step back, and took my hand. We ran together up the stairs, and down the hall to his room.

I shed the cloak as he locked the door, and dropped my vest on top of it, before fumbling to unlace my tunic as fast as I could.

He had me in his arms before I got done. Even as he slid his hands under my tunic, I tugged at the ties of his. Things got a little blurry, as pieces of clothing scattered left and right and our hands and mouths eagerly roamed.

He pushed me up against the wall beside the door, and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and wound my arms around his neck. He entered me even as he shifted his grip to my thighs, and I clung to him with all my strength.

I whimpered as he thrust against me, breathless with need.

It was over too quickly, but he didn't withdraw, didn't let me go. He leaned his forehead on my shoulder as we both panted for breath.

“I've been in hell for these past weeks,” he told me softly.

“Me, too.” I combed my fingers through his hair, my body singing still with pleasure. “Me, too.”

He lifted his head and began to nuzzle my neck. “Why did you stay away so long?”

“I don't want to waste time talking about it,” I answered. “I promise I'll try to explain. But later. Now...” I moved against him. “I just...need you.”

He pulled away, letting my feet touch the ground again, and then scooped me up in his arms. I laughed and curled my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as he carried me to the bed.

It was tea time before we emerged from his room.

“If we are to continue,” Aymeric told me as he drew us a bath, “We both need food. We might as well make ourselves presentable.”

I didn't argue. The bath was not as leisurely as I would have liked – but it did enliven me enough to register how empty my belly was.

I laughed to myself as I pulled on clean underthings. _I suppose you can't live on love after all_.

I hesitated for a moment, turning that thought over in my mind. Moving more slowly, I put on a pair of pants, and picked up a tunic. I sat on the chair at the writing desk, the tunic in my hands, and just watched Aymeric as he dressed.

I'd been trying to play it down – to keep our relationship as simple as I could. I hadn't admitted even to myself how deeply I cared for him. No demands...on him or on me. We had too many demands on us as it was, why make things harder?

But looking at him as he stood in front of his dresser, hunting for cuff links in the ebony box he used for such accessories, something inside me broke.

I couldn't lie to myself any more. I didn't just want him for the fantastic sex, for the occasional comforting. I wanted to see him like this every day. To watch him inhale outrageous amounts of sugary things at breakfast. To lie down beside him and doze off cradled in his arms. Even to listen to him talk about the people and politics he was trying to hammer into some semblance of reason and functionality.

When had I fallen so _hard?_

It was impossible, of course. Y'Shtola's words echoed in my head. _Our work is not kind to those we care for._ She was right. Falling in love was a stupid thing to do, even a cruel one, knowing the dangers I was constantly facing down. He had his own duty to see to, as well; how could my love be anything other than a hindrance to him?

My fingers knotted in the shirt. _Well. I just won't tell him. I can keep it to myself_.

He made a little “aha!” noise and plucked the elusive second cuff-link out of the little ebony box. As he started fiddling with it, he cast me a sideways, boyish grin.

I wondered if it was possible to die from seeing something too adorable.

Aymeric turned back toward the dresser, and I shook my head to clear it a little. I slipped the tunic on – it was the one Tataru had fixed up for me – and then the vest she'd altered to match. I focused on the ties of the vest, willing away the sting in my eyes.

So when Aymeric turned to me, looking delectable and elegant in his relatively informal shirt and pants, I was able to smile, and shove the lurking ache back into its dark corner of my mind.


	73. Sweetness

As it turned out, Aymeric had had more than one reason for persuading me into my clothes rather than into the bed again.

I blinked at him over the rim of my tea cup, finished taking a drink, and set the cup down again before I spoke. “Where are you going to get ice cream?”

“There's a new shop – one might call it a patisserie, but they don't actually serve anything except ice cream. It's called the Glacier.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Someone's going to run an ice cream shop in Ishgard? They do know how much easier it is to make ice cream here, right?”

“I gather that the proprietor is somewhat counting on that.” He grinned. “It's quite a nice experience. Very casual, but very good quality.”

“And how many times have you been there?”

His grin only got wider. “Not _every_ day since it opened...”

I could only laugh.

An hour later, I sat across a tiny table from the Lord Commander and Speaker for Ishgard, and resisted the temptation to lean over and lick whipped cream off the end of his nose.

The dessert in front of him was almost gone. I'd finished my own – and very good ice cream it was too, the “sweet cream” being a fair description of the not-too-sweet, subtle flavor. Aymeric had ordered some monstrosity that had involved a great deal of whipped cream and strawberries. There had even been a cherry on top, though that seemed to be one of the signature presentations here.

It wasn't _quiet_. The place was small, but very busy, and at least a dozen children were babbling with excitement all around the dining area. It wasn't an unpleasant din, but it was loud enough to make talking over it all a bother.

A few people had glanced our way when we arrived, but they were too busy with their offspring to do more than notice the leader of their country. The kids, of course, didn't give two hoots about Aymeric, being far more interested in exclaiming over the list of flavors and additions, or hovering near the glass partition through which one could watch some of the creations come together.

Aymeric was enjoying himself immensely. I was enjoying watching him. Though, I did have some definite ideas for later...the way he had eaten those berries had been positively _sinful_.

He grinned at me as he polished off the last bit of ice cream. The gleam in his eye told me that he knew full well the effect he had on me. I felt my cheeks warming and shook my head, trying to cover my lustful thoughts with laughter.

By mutual, silent accord, we got up, leaving our small table to be cleared, and stepped outside.

The sun was just setting, and Aymeric took my hand and set it on his arm. “Would my lady care for a stroll?”

There was hardly anyone about, and I smiled. “I would.”

The high promenade was deserted. Aymeric paused at the apex of the walk, looking out over the city as he leaned on the railing. I leaned beside him, admiring his profile.

“Not that I mind at all,” I said, “but aren't we skirting awfully close to indiscretion?”

“For the moment,” he answered, “I don't care who sees us. Let them talk.”

He turned to me, one hand still on the railing. His eyes glittered, catching the fading light. My mouth went a little dry at the look he was giving me.

“They can wag their tongues all day,” he said, his voice low, “but they won't convince even the worst of the old sticks that they should do away with me. That particular sort of rumor holds no trouble for me now.” He leaned in, his hand going to my waist as his mouth settled over mine in a delicate, feather-light kiss.

“If you don't want rumors of us coupling in full view of the entire city,” I whispered, “we had better get back.”

He laughed a little, but I saw the color in his cheeks. “You wouldn't.”

“Wouldn't I?” I put my arms around his waist. Then I whispered in his ear. “Shall I pull you down onto the stones right now, my lord? Or would you prefer me on my knees before you, my mouth on you – ”

He slanted his mouth over mine, kissing me hard, and I reveled in it. When we broke apart, both of us were a little pink in the cheeks. “Home,” he managed, and I grinned, pleased with my effect on him.

He put my hand on his arm once more. I could feel him shaking just a little as we began to walk. “Are there berries in the kitchen?” I asked him, my tone conversational.

I saw him glance at me, and gave him an impish smile.

“I...think there are,” he answered after a moment. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing much,” I told him, letting my smile turn just a little bit wicked. “Just something I want to try.”

I could see him thinking that over, could feel him tremble when he figured out what I meant.

It was a good thing not many people were around. I laughed a little thinking about what they would say, seeing the Lord Commander take my hand and nearly _run_ back to his house.

There were no strawberries, after all. But there _was_ the little pot of birch syrup that usually accompanied the breakfast tray. Half full, there was plenty for what I wanted.

Aymeric watched as I set the syrup down next to the rug, by the fire.

“You're going to want that nice shirt off at the very least,” I told him, chuckling. I suited my actions to my words, wasting no time taking off first the shoes, then the pants I had on.

It wasn't until I was peeling out of my tunic that I noticed he was still just watching me.

I gave him a questioning look. “What?”

His grin was downright devilish. “Enjoying the show.”

I made a rude noise. “I wasn't trying to be sexy or anything.”

He stepped close to me, and ran the back of his hand across my cheek. “You hardly have to try,” he murmured. “I find you beautiful, no matter what you happen to be doing.”

I knew I was blushing by the way he smiled. So I leaned forward and kissed him.

“Shirt,” I murmured as I eased back. “Off.”

“As my lady commands,” he chuckled.

I took myself over to the rug and sat down – even with the milder spring weather, the fire's warmth was welcome against my bare skin.

Aymeric turned toward the dresser, undoing his cuff links. He set them down, and tugged his boots off.

To my surprise, he then turned to face the long mirror in the corner. He pulled the cover off it, letting the midnight blue cloth whisper to the floor. I could see myself in it, just at the edge of the reflection, and as Aymeric smiled, I realized what he had in mind. My mouth went dry.

He began to unfasten his shirt, all the while watching me watching him. His long, clever fingers smoothed the fabric even as the shirt fell open, then plucked at it so that the silk fell from his shoulders. The muscles of his back rippled as he stretched, _posing_ for me. I swallowed, and I could see my own reaction in my flushed face and wide eyes.

So could he, and his smile was deviously smug.

He dragged his fingers down his chest to the waist of his pants, and unfastened them, loosening the laces with agonizing slowness. I bit my lip as he tugged them down just a bit.

“Oh my _gods_ , Aymeric, you're killing me,” I told him, my voice breathy. “If you don't get over here...”

He chuckled.

Fortunately for my sanity, he didn't force me to watch for much longer. As soon as his cock sprang free, I groaned out loud, and his eyes seemed to spark at the sound. His motions as he pulled his pants the rest of the way off were far less languid, and at last, _at last_ , he came to join me.

I pulled him into a kiss, and tugged him down onto his back. I knelt beside him, my back to the fire, and took up the little syrup pot. Moving slowly, carefully, I began to pour, trickling it onto his chest and down his belly, and finally drizzling just a little onto the head of his cock. His skin jumped a little wherever the syrup landed, and when I set the pot down and leaned in to begin licking the sweet stuff up, his eyes smoldered.

He stroked my hair, keeping it out of the way as I tongued my way down his chest bone, then lower, and lower. When at last I swept my tongue along his shaft, his breath huffed out of him and his fingers tightened against my scalp.

The syrup, warmed on his skin, slipped down my throat, leaving less behind than honey might have done. I could still taste him under the sweetness, and I shut my eyes as I focused all my attention on bathing every bit of his cock. The sound of his breath rasping, the feel of his fingers knotting in my hair, the wonderful incense smell of him...my head swam, overwhelmed.

He tugged at me, and I lifted my head to look at him, feeling dazed and languid. He pulled at me gently; pliant, I let him push me on my back, until I was leaning on one elbow. I kept my other hand insistently on his member. My fingers were just the slightest bit sticky, dragging against his skin as I got in a couple more strokes.

Aymeric sat up, and took up the syrup pot. His eyes caught the firelight, seeming to flash as he set his other hand on my bare hip.

“My turn.”

He shifted, and I sighed a little when I had to let go of his cock. But I was quickly distracted, because he was pouring, and the syrup was chilly compared to my skin.

He poured a small dollop of it in the middle of my chest, and then he swept his thumb through the syrup, spreading it. He drizzled more over each of my breasts, again using his thumb to smear it across my nipples. I shivered, and made myself be still, leaning now on both elbows. The firelight glistened off the swirls and spirals he traced as he _painted_ me with the birch syrup. My belly quivered a little, and I giggled in spite of myself when a little of the syrup pooled in my navel.

He set the syrup pot aside, and stroked my face with his knuckles before he slid his thumb between my lips. I let my tongue swirl around, licking the sweet residue from the pad of his thumb before suckling gently. He half closed his eyes and I could feel him growling.

He leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue along the side of my breast. I gasped and let go of his thumb, and he brought his hand down, cupping the breast as he licked and sucked at the sticky syrup. My head fell back as I groaned.

He was relentless – and _thorough_. By the time his head was lowering down my belly, I was breathing fast and trembling already. His hair brushed against my breasts, which were incredibly sensitive after his ministrations, and I clenched my teeth, not-quite-whining from the intense sensations.

He continued the sweet torture, down along my belly, chasing little rivulets of syrup where it had run as it warmed on my skin. I gasped and laughed in turns, especially when he got to my belly button. “Aymeric, it tickles – ahahaha – noooo stop it!”

But he didn't stop, just kept on inexorably tonguing his way along my body.

All my giggling ceased though, when he finally reached my mound. I gasped, and then groaned, feeling his hands sliding along the softness there. I writhed as he slipped his fingers against the wetness of my folds. Whimpering with lust I twisted my body, sprawling and inelegant, until I got my hands on his cock again, until I could set my tongue against him.

His fingers dug into my thighs as he pressed them farther apart, and his groan vibrated against me. I nearly snarled as I opened my mouth and devoured him.

He groaned again, and said something, muffled against my thighs. I clung to him, one hand gripping his flank.

He wrapped one arm around my thigh and plunged his fingers into me, and I cried out, my mouth filled, my sex already gushing for him. His tongue fluttered across my labia for only a moment before he attacked me, sucking hard, nipping, mercilessly licking every inch of me he could reach.

I quivered under his mouth, and sucked all the more desperately, bobbing my head. I was at a strange angle and my neck protested, but I ignored the minor discomfort, far too focused on the delicious, devastating things I was doing to Aymeric...and the even more devastating things he was now doing to me.

The climax washed over me, taking me by surprise, and I had all I could do not to bite him. His hips thrust against me, his tongue lashed me, and I came all the harder as I felt his deep growl rumbling against me everywhere we touched. I panted for breath, my hands clutching him, my heels digging into the rug as I bucked and quaked.

He wouldn't stop. I began to sob, the pleasure rolling over me, wave after wave. I felt I might stop breathing. I couldn't see. I couldn't control my limbs. I couldn't do anything at all but wail. The only thing keeping me from screaming loud enough to be heard out in the street was his cock in my mouth.

His fingers dug into my hips, hard enough to bruise, and his hips stuttered for an instant. Then he was coming, his cock bursting into my mouth. I was too far gone to swallow properly. Hot fluid gushed past my lips as I almost choked. I pulled my head back, and he continued to come, spattering my chest and neck.

I collapsed onto my back, heaving for breath, hair stuck to my face and sticky with fluids. I could feel tears leaking from the corners of my eyes, could feel the sweat prickling my skin. I could still taste just a hint of sweetness under the flavor of his seed, and I licked my lips, getting what I could, too tired to lift my hands.

Aymeric's thigh lay partly across my chest – when had that happened? He still grasped my legs, his cheek resting against my thigh. He was panting and shaking as hard I was.

We simply lay like that, nearly dozing, until a knot of wood popped in the fire. At the sound, Aymeric stirred.

He sat up, slowly, moving with great care. When he was on his knees looking down at me, he leaned his hands on his thighs and just panted for a moment more, his eyes drifting shut.

I found enough strength to lift my hand and stroke his arm. He opened his eyes and looked at me, and my heart sang for joy at the way his eyes caressed me.

“A bath,” he whispered, and I laughed, breathless.

“I suppose we need another, yes.”

We helped each other to stand, and staggered, like a pair of drunks, to the bathing chamber.


	74. Three Little Words

Later, clean again and wrapped in warm robes, he held me on the bed, combing my hair with his fingers as I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Will you tell me, now, what has kept you away, my warrior?”

I sighed, considering my words carefully. So much had happened. “I didn't exactly intend it,” I began. “But...before the attack on the Wall...I had a pretty bad argument with Alphinaud.” I swallowed, remembering the hurt in Alphinaud's eyes before he had walked away. “A very personal argument,” I managed. “Then...all the things that happened on the Wall. After that...I just couldn't stay in the Toll. Needed space, needed to think...” I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. The fabric of the robe absorbed the tears.

“I took some work out in the hinterlands,” I continued. “Cid's people had been called in to investigate this great metal giant that had suddenly stood up out of the middle of the Thaliak. The people in Idyllshire were terrified.”

“I think a report about that went across my desk. Lucia's note said it was under control.”

“Yeah...not under _our_ control, but it's, well, no longer a danger anyway.” I laughed, hoping I didn't sound like I was skirting around anything. “It was a very confusing situation at times. But it all worked out in the end.”

“Something else happened, didn't it?”

 _Damn it, just once, I wish I could actually pull off a fib_.

I turned my face more towards his shoulder. After a moment, Aymeric shifted, sitting up more, his hands gently insistent as he turned my face toward him.

“Berylla. Tell me what troubles you.” His command, like his hands, was gentle and yet implacable. I couldn't look away.

My words came out in a low murmur, taut and tense. “I was with Y'Shtola one night. It wasn't...exactly something I planned.” I shut my eyes, wincing as I remembered again the haunted look in her eyes that night. “I hurt her, a long time ago, and that night only made it worse instead of better.”

I sat up, pulling back a little. I fiddled with my hair, then stopped, trying to keep from showing how nervous I was.

It hadn't even occurred to me how Aymeric might react to my being with someone else. With Haurchefant it would have been fine – but I hadn't ever actually _talked_ to Aymeric about the subject. I set my hands to my head, rubbing at my temples a little.

“I'm, I'm sorry.”

Aymeric reached for me, and I looked up.

He took my hands in his and kissed each palm. Then he held them, his thumbs rubbing slow circles across the backs of my hands. His voice held no anger as he said, “There is no need for apologies between us.”

“But there is,” I managed. “I should have talked to you a long time ago about, about...” I shook my head. “I'm bad with words. I'm not like you or Alphinaud...I can't say it in a pretty way, I don't know if this will even make sense...” I took a long breath, my eyes focused on our hands. My knuckles were a little pale and I realized I was hanging on to his hands as if they were a lifeline.

“I care about you.” I swallowed. “I should have asked a long time ago if you would be okay with, with me still being with friends in that way. I assumed...but I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry.”

“I never asked, either,” he answered. I looked up and saw his rueful smile. “Perhaps both of us are guilty of assumptions. I confess that when we...began this relationship, Haurchefant was very much on my mind whenever I was with you.” He brought one of my hands up to press my palm against his cheek. His eyes shut for a moment. “Some wounds do not heal,” he murmured. I could only nod, the pain in my chest too sharp for speaking.

“You were my balm,” he told me, and pressed his lips to my palm again. “You kept me sane, you know. After Haurchefant...and my father...and then Estinien...” His eyes closed again and his voice trembled. “I do not know what might have become of me, had you not saved me.”

“Lucia would have done something,” I tried, but he snorted a laugh.

“You've mentioned that before. Are you so determined to play match-maker for her?”

I blushed. “I just...if I'm going to maybe fool around with someone else...you should have someone too.”

“Ah, but not just anyone will do,” he sighed. He opened his eyes again, let go of my hands, and then pulled me to him, arranging me across his lap, and kissing me.

When he lifted his head, he smiled. “I am not upset with you, Berylla. I was friends with Haurchefant, remember? I know what it is to love someone who needs a certain amount of freedom.”

I swallowed hard. “But you?”

“I will never love another woman as long as I live,” he said, without hesitation. “I suppose it is simply in my nature.”

“It seems wrong.” My eyes were getting misty again. “It seems so unfair to you. How can you be okay with...with...”

“Because I have faith in you.” His thumb caressed my bottom lip. “I believe that you will come back to me, no matter how far the road takes you. And after all,” he kissed me softly, “one does not chain angels.”

I clung to him, burying my face in his neck. “I'm no angel.” My laugh was so shaky it was nearly a sob.

He just held me like that, until the fire popped again. We parted, both of us sighing a little, and he got out of the bed to deal with the fire. I just sat, hugging my knees, and watched him.

 _Those words_ bubbled up in me again, clamoring to get out. I wanted, so badly, to tell him. But it would be cruel to do it now, when I was heading off into only the gods knew what sort of trouble. Those words deserved better than me blurting them out and then running off.

So I said them in my head, as I admired the slide of his robe across his back. I said them the way a priest repeated his prayers, as I watched him get up and go over to the pile of clothing near the mirror, and dug his hand into his pants pocket, fishing something out.

When he came back to the bed, his right hand was closed – holding something very small. I gave him a curious look, and he smiled. Once he had settled beside me again, he opened his hand.

In his palm were a pair of link-pearls. Unlike the utilitarian ones issued by the Scions, these were ornamental enough to seem like jewelry, with delicate patterns chased on them in blue and gold. I looked up at him.

“A private frequency,” he told me quietly, “is one of my perquisites as Speaker. I thought at first I would have no need of such a thing, but now...”

I looked back down at his hand, and slowly took one of the devices.

“I am aware you may not be able to use it often,” he murmured. “But I hope you will do so when you can.”

“Every time I can, I will...” I swallowed against more tears, and tried for a little humor. “Assuming I don't lose it right away.”

He smiled. “I am certain you won't lose it.”

I tucked the little device into the chest pocket of my robe, and leaned forward to kiss him.

The words hummed through me, a little song.

_Gods, how I love this man._

Despite our exertions, both of us woke just before dawn. The bed curtains were still drawn, and even as I turned over, Aymeric was also turning to face me.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

I kissed him. “Mornin'.”

I snuggled against him, and put my head on his shoulder. I would have been just as pleased to drift off into a doze...but then he spoke.

“You mentioned having some errands to run?”

“Hm, yes,” I sighed. “Tataru gave me a list...and I should maybe look for presents.”

“Oh?”

“I missed Alphinaud's name-day. And Alisaie's of course.”

I felt him nuzzling my hair. “Was that part of your argument?”

“No.”

I hadn't meant to sound terse. Aymeric shifted from underneath me and sat up a little bit.

“This argument.” His eyes were concerned. “What was the cause?”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I really don't want to talk about it, darlin'. He and I worked it out, and I'd just rather forget it ever happened.” Not that I really would forget. Ever. But I surely didn't want to try to explain to Aymeric the tangled mess of my own feelings towards Alphinaud...much less Alphinaud's feelings for me. Which were, probably, less tangled but – no. _No way am I talking about one man's infatuation with me to the man I'm currently sleeping with. Even I'm not that stupid_.

He frowned at me, but to my relief, he let the subject drop.

“I was hoping to bring both Alphinaud and Alisaie something nice,” I told him.

“Why not simply have them join you here, and celebrate together?”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

He smiled. “Lord Edmont will be hosting a concert tomorrow,” he told me, stroking my hair back from my face. “I wager he might be quite pleased to be able to include his wards among his guests.”

I hadn't even considered _actually_ visiting Fortemps Manor, despite my words yesterday morning. And I saw by the gleam in his eyes that Aymeric knew good and damn well I hadn't thought of it.

I shook my head even as I smiled. “That's a pretty wonderful idea. Got any others?”

Aymeric was right. Though it was still odd to my ears to hear Artoirel referred to as the Count de Fortemps, Lord Edmont seemed happier and more vigorous than he had been when I'd last visited. Retirement seemed to agree with him, and I was glad of it.

He was overjoyed with the idea of entertaining me and the twins. In fact, he was immediately full of plans and suggestions. Most of them matched very closely with the things Aymeric had thought up.

I couldn't help but smile and let him take over planning the details. My only insistence was that we would not usurp the concert he already had planned. “I don't mind a small gathering after, just ourselves and the family,” I told him. “An elaborate party is a bit more than the twins would be comfortable with, too.” A guess on my part, but I felt confident that Alisaie at least would thank me for such a guess.

Even so, there was a lot to discuss – not just party planning but catching up on everything else. I stayed for supper and for a bit of coffee after, and wandered back to Borel Manor just before full night descended on the city. Jarilant let me in through the back; I could hear Aymeric bidding someone goodnight as I stepped into the hall near the kitchen. He had mentioned he would have guests this evening. I was just as glad that I'd been otherwise occupied.

I waited in the hall until I heard the front door close, and then moved towards the stairs. Aymeric came up to me as I set my foot on the first step, and took my hand, kissing the back of it.

“Shall we retire to bed, my lady?”

I thumbed my link-pearl on. The device chimed pleasantly, twice, then there was a click and Tataru's voice on the line. “Yes?”

“Hey, it's me. Are Alphinaud and Alisaie there?”

“Yes, we just finished supper,” Tataru answered. “What's going on, Berylla?”

“Something good for once,” I grinned. “Can you get them to Ishgard by – oh, say – four in the afternoon tomorrow?”

“What on earth are you...?”

“Trust me, it's important – and like I said, good.”

Alisaie spoke up. “Does this have to do with what you and I discussed?”

“Sure does.”

“We'll be there.”

“See you tomorrow then.” I clicked the link-pearl off, my grin only getting wider.

Aymeric pulled me back down onto the bed, laughing quietly. “You look so pleased with yourself.”

I kissed him. “And shouldn't I be pleased?”

“I like seeing you smile this way,” he replied. “I only wish I had the good fortune to see it more often.”

I sat watching the twins reading over the Glacier's menu. I was pretty sure I knew what was going to catch Alisaie's attention.

We had had a lovely dinner and then the equally lovely concert. Meeting Nightbird, who was so much more than merely a singer in Lord Edmont's employ, still had me a little confused, but that hadn't stopped me from very much enjoying her performance. Alphinaud's rapt expression would have made it wonderful even if I hadn't.

And then we'd been all but chased out, the three of us, and told to come back once we'd had our little outing. I suspected there would be some sort of gift giving when we returned.

Aymeric had been right. Bringing the twins to Ishgard like this had been a fabulous idea.

Alisaie was the only other person I knew who could match Aymeric for devouring of sweets. She was just as pleased as I'd hoped she would be. Her smile was wide as she read, her eyes sparkled, and she was just barely keeping herself from bouncing in her chair.

I glanced at Alphinaud, but unlike his sister he was merely reading, calmly, with no outward signs of excitement. Or dismay, for that matter.

When Alisaie's eyes went wide and she exclaimed aloud, I began to chuckle.

“Ooh! What on earth is a...oh my. Oh, I have to try this!”

“The banana split?” I inquired, though I knew good and well that was what she'd seen.

“Yes! Did you see what's listed on this thing? It must be enormous!”

I grinned at her, and Alphinaud said, “You knew before we got here, didn't you, Berylla?”

“I had a good guess,” I admitted. “But what about you? See anything you want to try?”

The server came up to our table, smiling. Alisaie ordered the banana split, of course, and to my mild surprise Alphinaud asked for mint chocolate chip. I got a small serving of butter pecan, but I made a point of asking for extra spoons to come with the banana split. “Just in case you want to share,” I told Alisaie, and then I grinned. “Or in case you can't finish.”

“Is that a challenge?”

We both laughed, while Alphinaud just shook his head. But he was smiling.

The bowls for my own ice cream and Alphinaud's were of a moderate size, each holding a generous scoop of the dessert. Alisaie's choice, naturally, came out on its own tray, in a dish shaped like a boat. Compared to the single servings, the dish looked as big as a boat, too.

The eponymous bananas peeked over the dish at the ends, and beneath outrageously large mounds of whipped cream I could just make out the three scoops of ice cream – each one a different flavor. The various sauces lavishly drizzled across the whole thing made a pleasing pattern of colored lines.

Alisaie plucked the cherry off the center mound of whipped cream, and neatly bit it off the stem. With no more ceremony than that she dove right in.

I dug into my own dessert, keeping half an eye on Alphinaud. He had been so quiet, for all his smiles, that I was a little concerned he wasn't enjoying himself very much. For all the times he and I had talked over food, I'd never actually asked him about his favorite dishes. Did he even care for sweets?

At least he wasn't picking politely at his ice cream. He was still not as – enthusiastic – as his sister, but then again no one in the entire shop was quite as enthusiastic as Alisaie at this moment. Still, I felt a good bit of relief. We were mending our friendship, but I couldn't help but worry. I wanted this evening to go as well as possible...

I made myself pay attention to enjoying my own ice cream, and tried to let the worry go.

Soon enough, Alphinaud and I had both finished. Alisaie, of course, was only about half way through with the banana split.

Her brother leaned his arms on the table and set his chin in his hand, the very picture of waiting. She wrinkled her nose at him, oblivious for the moment to the fact that she had a dot of whipped cream on one cheek.

“Are you sure you don't want some help with that?” I asked her with a grin.

She eyed the dessert critically. I noticed then that she had rather methodically sampled every single part of the thing. Precise slices were taken out of the ends. The center – which had started out with a scoop of strawberry ice cream and a liberal heaping of sugar-glazed berries – was demolished. She appeared to be making a start on the vanilla.

She let out a little sigh. “If I try to eat all this alone, I suppose I will be courting a stomach ache later, won't I?”

“Quite likely,” Alphinaud said. His eyes sparkled a little, though he didn't laugh aloud at his sibling.

“Well then. I will share,” and she picked up both of the extra spoons in turn, handing one to me and one to her brother. “But only if both of you take some.”

Once more _those words_ bubbled up in me. I loved all of them, in so many ways. I had a feeling I was going to have sort myself out about it eventually. But not tonight.


	75. Leaving Home Again

We stepped off the airship just outside of town, and I made sure to thank the Ironworks crew once more. After all, they didn't usually make a flight to Mor Dhona, and even though it was Aymeric who'd arranged for it – the _crew_ had had to get up before dawn.

I had been up that early myself – squeezing in as much time as I could with Aymeric before I had to meet the others at the landing. But the twins both looked a bit sleepy even now. Still, they shouldered their new packs without a complaint. I strapped mine to my back, and picked up a stack of crates. Half of Tataru's shopping list had come back with us on this flight. Two of the crew members collected the other crates, and making a small cavalcade, we trooped towards the road.

We walked into the Rising Stones before ten in the morning.

Tataru was very pleased to see us – and even more pleased to see the burdens I bore. I grinned as she bustled out from behind her desk and began ordering things to her liking. Storing the crates didn't take long at all – Tataru was nothing if not efficient – and I was in my own small room no more than twenty minutes later.

I unpacked, stowing things and rearranging my travel gear.

Last night had been wonderful. Not just the music, not just the food; all of it. I had guessed right: the gift giving had commenced when the twins and I had returned from the Glacier.

I would never have been able to think of such good gifts on my own. I was deeply grateful to Lord Edmont for that alone, honestly.

New packs for all of us – one of the latest styles, and outfitted with the most up to date gadgetry to let us carry far more than we could before. I smiled, wondering if Alphinaud would actually try to fit half the library in his.

Other useful things had been given to us as well – camping gear that wasn't worn down, little things like new combs and vials of leather-oil to maintain those lovely new packs. Those had been Artoirel's doing, I was certain, though he hadn't taken credit.

Emmanellain had, naturally, given gifts of a far less practical nature: party clothes for us all. For once, I didn't mind. Alisaie's face when she saw the red dancing outfit had been a revelation. As much as Alphinaud could preen over his appearance at times – it hadn't occurred to me that his sister might yearn for pretty things once in a while, for herself. And honestly, I was touched and astonished that the young lord had found any tailor capable of making dancing shoes for me, much less a dress.

I hung the dress up carefully, and ran wondering fingers over it once more. Aymeric had insisted that I try it on last night – and when I had looked in his mirror, I hadn't looked ridiculous at all. How had someone so feckless as Emmanellain figured out what would flatter my big, rangy self?

All in all, we were far better prepared for the road than we had been before. I had a feeling we were going to need it.

I slipped the link-pearl that Aymeric had given me into an inner pocket of the pack, where it would be safe.

I wasn't sure what would happen next – with the Scions, with the coming war, with me and Aymeric. None of it was clear cut, there wasn't a known path. But when had there ever been an easy, clearly marked way forward?

I came back out into the common room in time to see Tataru coming in with a scroll in her hand.

“A message from the Alliance!”

Alphinaud's eyes lit up. “It's about time! Please, gather everyone, Tataru.”

I followed him into the solar, leaving the door partly open to let the others in. “Mind if I read over your shoulder?” I asked, and he nodded as he unrolled the scroll.

I took up a spot to his right and scanned the message. Raubahn's handwriting was remarkably elegant – or did he employ a scribe, I wondered irrelevantly – and the wording was plain and straightforward. No flowery diplomatic phrases here: just a terse report that the breach in the Wall was secured, the castrum that controlled that area was occupied and fully functioning as a base of operations, and that thus far there was no sign of either Omega or the primal it had battled. A more thorough investigation on those two entities would have to wait on establishing a greater foothold – or ideally, removing Imperial presence from the region entirely. Towards that end – the formal request for the Scions to help contact the Resistance and convince them to join hands with the Alliance. Just as Alphinaud had predicted.

By the time everyone had arrived, Alphinaud had already memorized the information. How he could do that just reading over the thing once – maybe twice – still amazed me. I leaned against the desk slightly as he addressed us all, briefly relating the contents of the message.

“And, as expected,” he finished, “he wishes to petition the aid of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.” I half smiled at the way the words rolled off his tongue. _He does like his formalities_.

Lyse's brow furrowed. “As expected?”

Alphinaud's tone was patient as he explained it to her – the need to move with caution so as not to be labeled invaders and aggressors, and all the rest. She hadn't been present for those discussions, after all.

She seemed flummoxed, but held her peace. Y'Shtola tilted her head slightly. “They wish us to act as intermediaries?”

“Precisely,” Alphinaud answered with a nod. “The Scions are uniquely qualified to serve in this capacity...that is to say, Lyse is, given her personal connection to the Resistance.” His eyes settled on Lyse. “Who better than you to broker an agreement between the Alliance and the people of Ala Mhigo?” His lips curved in a very slight, sly smile. “Assuming you are willing of course.”

Lyse blinked at him, and I could see it in her face – the realization that she would have to actually lead if she wanted to do this. No more hiding, no more following orders, following others. Then the sting of realizing Alphinaud's mild hint that she might not be up to the job after all. Her jaw formed and she nodded once. “Of course I am.”

He smiled wider, and nodded. “As for who should accompany you...I had a mind to volunteer myself.”

“Heh.” She looked at me. “Well, that covers the _talking_ part. But you know there'll be trouble along the way.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you available?”

I nodded, giving her a smile. “As if you have to ask.”

Her cheeks went a little pink, and she bowed her head for a moment. “Thanks. It...it means a lot to me, knowing you'll be there.”

Y'Shtola crossed her arms. “I, too, shall come along,” she said. “Such endeavors are seldom hampered by a surfeit of healers.”

Krile nodded vigorously. “Good point! Allow me to offer my services as well.”

Alisaie spoke up, looking at her brother. “I have spent _quite_ enough time here of late, so I'll be coming.” Her gaze was challenging, her posture equally so. “We will need someone, however, to keep an eye on things.”

Alphinaud simply nodded, and she seemed somewhat surprised that he didn't argue with her. She cleared her throat a little, and turned her eyes to Urianger. “I trust you have no objections?”

The tall scholar nodded. “None, my lady. Gladly shall I continue to serve as caretaker of the Waking Sands, and there keep watch for signs of primal and Ascian activity both.”

Thancred shifted his weight. “As capable as my learned friend undoubtedly is, there are some troubles that may prove too much for a single Scion – on account of which, I mean to stay.”

I saw a brief flicker of a glance between Thancred, Urianger, and Alphinaud, but before I could even wonder about it, Alphinaud was nodding. “It is settled, then. Let us each see to our preparations.”

Seeing as I'd been most of the way packed before the meeting, I was the first one back out in the common room. I saw Urianger, Thancred, and Alphinaud step out of the solar, conversing quietly. As I set my pack down, Thancred slapped Urianger on the shoulder, and the robed Elezen turned and headed for the front door, obviously going back to the Waking Sands. The other two stepped over to Tataru's desk and spoke with her for a moment, but they were already done by the time I ambled over to join them.

Thancred gave me a small nod, tucking something tiny into a pocket on his bandoleer before heading off towards the private quarters.

Alphinaud glanced at me. “Ready to go?”

“Not like I had a lot left to do, to pack,” I smiled. “I dealt with most of it as soon as I got to my room earlier.”

“Alisaie and I packed as well. So once she and the others arrive, we'll be able to leave.” There was an eagerness to him, and I knew he was just as glad as any of us that the waiting was finally over.

Lyse came out, and set her bag with mine, then came over to us. “The others are almost ready, I think,” she commented.

Then, she and Alphinaud both looked at something behind my shoulder. I turned around, to see Gosetsu and Yugiri approaching us.

The elegant au ra nodded to us, and said, “Mistress Y'Shtola has unfolded all. You are bound for Gyr Abania?”

Alphinaud nodded, and gave her a very brief explanation. I could see the faint hint of hope in his eyes; Lyse, too. But Yugiri bent her head for a long, pensive moment when Alphinaud finished speaking.

“It begins then,” she said at last. “As soon it shall in Doma, if the gods are good. It is a pity that it must be now.” She straightened her shoulders and met our eyes again. “I am sorry that we shall not be present to fight beside you in the battles to come...”

Lyse looked down, but Alphinaud's face held no disappointment, only a little surprise. “You have stood with us countless times, Lady Yugiri. Pray do not apologize.”

Yugiri bowed her head in acknowledgment. Then she looked to me. “Then, let us thank you instead. You and yours stood with us from the first, when we came to this land as refugees in search of sanctuary. Loath am I to think about might have become of my people had you not extended to us the hand of friendship. We will never forget – this, I solemnly swear.”

At her shoulder, Gosetsu nodded.

I wished – not for the first time – that she was the sort to welcome hugs. I settled for simply nodding back.

Alphinaud's smile was gentle. “Much has changed since first you set foot on these shores. Revenant's Toll stands as a testament to that. I am sure your people will manage in your absence.”

Yugiri smiled, her voice filled with quiet pride. “Indeed. They have built a new home for themselves, and no longer need me to shepherd them. The time has come for Gosetsu and I to return to our master...to our home.”

Only a complete fool could have missed the look in her eye as she said it. Demonstrative she might not have been, but it was clear she was ready, and very happy, to be going home.

Lyse, her eyes still on the floor, nodded. “It's time that I went home, too.”

Gosetsu regarded her, and then set his fist into his palm. “Though our battlefields be a thousand miles apart,” he told her, in that booming voice of his, “our purpose is one! Let all men hearken to the clarion call of freedom – of liberation – from Eorzea to the Far East, that they may rise up and cast down the curs of Garlemald!”

 _Someone ought to let Gosetsu write speeches_. I grinned, and Lyse looked up at him and managed a smile of her own.

She echoed his gesture. “Take care, you hear me? When all of this is over, we're going to celebrate,” she told them, with some of her old energy. “Together! Just you wait!”

Yugiri smiled warmly. “I should like that very much. Fare you well.”

Both of them bowed, and then they turned and left. The door shut quietly behind them.

I crossed my arms, keeping my face turned away from the others for a moment. _Gods, I hope they'll be all righ_ t.

Before I could start to wallow in worry, Alphinaud spoke. “A thousand miles apart, yet united in purpose...” His smile was fond. “Let us pray both our endeavors meet with success.”

The door to the private quarters opened again, and out came Y'Shtola, Krile, and Alisaie; the last looking slightly annoyed as she hauled Alphinaud's bag.

She set it at his feet with a thump. “You really _did_ put all those books in there, didn't you?” she demanded.

I covered my laugh by stepping over to grab my pack and Lyse's.

Alphinaud lifted his bag and slung it over his shoulders. “Shall we, then?”

Tataru gasped suddenly. “Oh! Oh, wait! I knew I was forgetting something!” As we all paused, looking at her, she hopped up from her chair. “Lyse, could you come with me, please?”

“What, _now?_ ” Lyse looked at me as if for help. I just gave her a shrug, though I had a good idea what Tataru was up to. “Oh, well...okay...” She followed the Lalafellin woman back towards the tall screen in the corner. I exchanged amused looks with Alphinaud.

We didn't wait for long; Y'Shtola's tail hadn't even begun to twitch before the two of them reappeared. The others exclaimed in surprise, but Alphinaud just crossed his arms and gave an approving nod. I eyed the new outfit, as Lyse tried out a couple of punches and kicks, and stretched. The red certainly looked great on her, and the design was...well, she'd be getting attention of all sorts, showing so much skin – and showing how powerful her muscles were, too.

“Your work never ceases to impress,” Alphinaud told Tataru, who preened, greatly pleased with herself.

Lyse smiled happily. “It's lovely, Tataru. Thank you...I feel like I could take on a whole legion!”

Tataru grinned. “Safe travels!”

We opted to teleport to the East Shroud, first, and then borrowed mounts to ride out to the Wall itself. Strung out a bit along the path, I settled my own bird alongside Lyse. I noticed her frowning in thought.

“Still not sure about how this is going to go?” I asked her.

“I guess I'm just not used to thinking about politics,” she sighed. “I understand...sort of. But I don't. Why can't we just fight the damned Imperials? Why all this talking first?”

I nodded. “It's tactics and politics both,” I observed. “But look. It's like Alisaie said. The Alliance doesn't want to look like they're just taking over the whole area. And think about this – if we didn't talk first, the locals might not be too happy with us. How would they know that we don't mean to just replace the Imperials in lording it over them? Gridania was at war with Gyr Abania not that long ago, remember?”

She nodded slowly.

“So we have to do this the right way, or we won't be any better than the Garleans. We can't just ride in and rescue the people of Ala Mhigo, much as we might want to – because _we_ shouldn't be deciding how to do that. We don't know what's best for them, and if we want them to stand on their own – it's got to be this way.”

“I don't like it,” she sighed, “because it's going to take so much longer. But you're right.” She glanced at me. “Don't...don't tell anyone, but I'm feeling a little bit nervous.”

I half smiled, and she added, “Only a bit, mind you. I'll be fine once we get going.” She looked ahead of us, where the Wall loomed. “...Hopefully.”

“Don't worry,” I told her. “You'll get your fill of action, I'm sure.”

Castrum Oriens was abuzz with activity, with bustling troops and clouds of dust hanging everywhere. The black walls were faintly yellowish from the dust that had clung. The mid morning sun glittered off metal on those walls, and off the dozens of weapons and hundreds of uniforms that seemed to be everywhere except in a narrow path straight down the center of the mathematically-precise main street.

Alphinaud touched my arm as our birds walked nearly shoulder to shoulder to fit down the clear space. He nodded to a knot of soldiers, and to a grouping of flags above them. All four colors of the Alliance flew side by side. “To see the colors of so many nations...” His voice was warm. “Limsa Lominsa, Gridania, Uldah...and now Ishgard. It well nigh brings a tear to my eye.” He smiled over at me. “We have much to be proud of, Berylla.”

I smiled back at him. “We do, don't we?” If we hadn't been surrounded by so many people, I would have hugged him.

We found the command tent without any effort at all – the path led directly to it. Raubahn stood at a table, poring over maps. We all dismounted, grabbed our packs, and let our borrowed birds be led away. Alphinaud strode directly over, along with his sister and Lyse, and began talking to the general.

Off to my right, I heard a voice. “Well. Of all the castra in the world, you walk into mine.”

I grinned as I turned. “Hi, Cid. How the hell have you been?”

“Busy,” he answered with a grin of his own. He clasped arms with me. “Lots of ferrying back and forth between here and Ishgard – Ser Aymeric doesn't do things by halves. Ordered up a half dozen new airships, and still hammering out an agreement with Jessie about a whole fleet of manacutters. Wedge is insufferable about it.”

I laughed along with him, then cocked my head. “And Omega?”

“It's not safe for me to send my people out there, not yet,” he shook his head. “We're surveying what we can, as we can. I have people going out alongside the patrols, but so far we've turned up exactly nothing.”

“Sounds frustrating.” I glanced to the side, and more quietly, asked, “Where's Nero, then?”

“I haven't seen him in a week.” Cid shrugged. “The man is a loose cannon at best, but at least he isn't underfoot causing trouble.”

“True.” I sighed. “I'm just as glad not to have to worry about bumping into him.”

“Everything all right?” Cid's eyes held mine. “I know there was some kind of trouble between you and him, back at the Tower...”

My smile felt fake, and probably looked it, too. “I'm fine. We have one hell of a job ahead of us, right now. I'd rather keep my mind on that than on...past mistakes.”

He let it go, and patted my shoulder. “If ever you need me, you know how to get in touch.”

“I know. Thanks.” I saw Alisaie waving at me. “Time to go to work, looks like. Good hunting, Cid.”

He gave me a kind of salute, two fingers touched to his brow, and I walked over to the command tent.

“The Scions stand ready to serve, General,” Alphinaud was saying. “What would you ask of us?”

“We would have you serve as our emissaries and make contact with the Resistance.”

Lyse nodded firmly. “Consider it done, General. We won't let you down, I swear.”

The big man nodded. “Then I'll leave you to it. Gods-speed!”

We stepped out from beneath the sparse cover, and looked out over a wide, fast, shallow expanse – the upper part of the Velodyna river. I surveyed the area – this was the shallowest section, just about the only safe place to cross for miles and miles, I was willing to bet. Off to our right, the water flung itself over jutting rocks, before spilling over what looked even from this vantage to be a most impressive cliff. Part of me wanted to go exploring already.

I heard Alisaie mutter something to her brother, in a teasing tone, and glanced at the two of them. Alphinaud's eyes were measuring the water with no little trepidation. He saw me looking at them, and his ears went a bit pink as he cleared his throat. “At a glance,” he said diffidently, “it certainly seems shallow enough.” Alisaie snickered, and he glared at her.

Lyse nodded. “We won't have to swim.” She waved to Krile and Y'Shtola. “You two first, then the twins. Berylla and I will keep watch for any patrols.”

The others wasted no time, and I took a good look around, scanning the hills and the riverbank. My eyes drifted up as I caught sight of something fluttering to the south, and then I was staring in astonishment at the massive bridge – or was it a tower?

“Castellum Velodyna,” Lyse told me. “That's what the Imperials decided to call the old bridge after they fortified it.” She sneered in the general direction. “I call it a great big eyesore. Honestly, you can see that rotten banner from absolutely miles away.”

It occurred to me that the ludicrously tall tower was also the biggest dick for miles around. Symbolically speaking...

“They never miss a chance to rub our noses in it, do they?” Lyse muttered, half to herself.

I glanced at her, and noticed that the twins were almost to the other side. Alisaie was keeping herself downstream of Alphinaud, one hand on his elbow, as if she were concerned about him falling over. I cocked an eyebrow at that. The water wasn't much more than thigh deep, even for the two of them.

“Come on,” Lyse said. “We should keep moving. We haven't seen any patrols...we've been a bit lucky.”

She led the way, wading across the water with a confident stride. I followed, keeping an eye out behind us, but we saw nothing other than a very large – and very lazy – crocodile, dragging itself up onto a rock in the middle of the river to bask.

On the other side, the landscape was very different – sand, and hills, stripes of sandstone in varying shades of pale. The dust that had clung to things in the castrum hung here in clouds like yellowish fog. A stench hung in the air, too...something acrid and almost familiar.

Lyse led out, following a path – wide as a road, but really it was nothing more than a place where the sand and dirt had been scraped down to rock, and mostly graded flat. She kept us off the actual track, and on the scree where no footprints would show.

We rounded a stack of boulders, and I coughed as the breeze wafted into my face. Ceruleum. Machine oil. Soot. I blinked to clear my eyes, and saw the wreckage of a magitek reaper, not ten feet away, still smoking from its ruined engine.

The area in front of us was pocked with craters; from some of them, pillars of sooty smoke still rose. I didn't see any bodies...but there was magitek wreckage and broken weaponry scattered all over.

“What the hell...?”

“I did mention there were casualties on this side of the Wall, did I not?” Y'Shtola commented mildly.

I cast a glance at her, just a little chilled at how unmoved she was by the scope of the destruction here. But her expression was hard and her tail lashed.

“We're almost there,” Lyse said. “Come on.”

We crossed the blasted landscape, and I kept a sharp eye out. With all the smoke and dust, monsters and Imperials alike could get the drop on us all too easily.

Fortunately for my nerves, we passed through the area without mishap, and reached another flowing stream of water, this one with steep banks, flowing even faster than the upper Velodyna. Lyse turned aside there, leading us upstream until we reached a place where the cliffs closed in.

“We're here.” She turned to face us. “On the other side of this pass is Rhalgr's Reach.”

I frowned at her. _What pass?_ Her eyes twinkled as she waited.

Alphinaud cocked his head. “So you say, but all I see are rocks. I presume there is some sort of trick to this?”

Y'Shtola nodded before Lyse could answer. Her tone was dry. “Indeed. A glamour.”

I squinted at her, confused. I knew of clothing glamours, but I'd never heard of casting one on a _place_.

Lyse grinned. “You have a good eye, Y'Shtola!”

Alphinaud's eyes flickered across the cliff face again. “I take it they have a talented mage in their ranks – or perhaps an artificer, trained in the modification of prisms?”

Lyse shrugged a little. “Something like that. The important thing is that it fools the Garleans.”

She pulled a very small pouch from her belt, and turned to face the cliff. Then she looked at us over her shoulder. “M'Naago – that messenger who came to the Rising Stones – is a member of this faction. So they know us. They shouldn't attack us on sight. That said, they can be a bit jumpy, so...don't go reaching for your weapons or anything.”

With that reassuring comment, she turned back and poured a bit of white powder into the palm of her hand. Holding her palm flat, she blew across it, sending the powder out on a strong puff of breath.

One moment the cliff came right up to the water. The next, the whole thing seemed to waver, as if a wave of great heat passed between me and the sheer rock. And then...the cliff was gone, or rather it was as if it had moved back about five yards.

“Oh.” I blinked at the spot, and Lyse, seeing my expression, giggled even as she stowed the pouch once more.

Alphinaud gave me a small smile as I blushed. “Seeing it now,” he told me, “I feel rather foolish for not having deduced it earlier.”

There was room enough for us to walk together rather than single file. The twins stayed beside me, as Krile and Y'Shtola followed Lyse ahead of us.

Alisaie slanted a wicked glance at me. Her smile was sly. “I suppose,” she said in a thoughtful tone, “You could disguise almost anything with a glamour prism, if you really wanted to. Have you ever used one?” Then she shook her head, eyes dancing. “Why am I asking – _of course_ you haven't.”

I spluttered. “Hey!”

Alphinaud's chuckle matched his sister's, and then she elbowed me a little. “I couldn't help it, the look on your face was just too good, Berylla.”

“See if I get _you_ any more banana splits,” I mock-growled.

And so, it was with smiles on our faces that we passed into the valley of the Temple of the Fist.


	76. First You Must Reach

The first thing I noticed was the shade. The _second_ thing was the statue.

I'd never been much for religious stuff – I knew the basics, but I was most certainly not an avid worshiper of the Twelve. I had never seen much in reference to the Destroyer before. I knew his symbol and knew he was important to Ala Mhigan folks, and that was just about it.

My head tilted back as my eyes went up, and up, and _up_...

“This temple was once home to the Fist of Rhalgr, as I recall. Yes...there is no mistaking that statue.”

I looked over at Alphinaud, to see him scanning the sheer walls that enclosed us. I followed his glance and noticed the columns and carvings, cut right into the rock...and then I saw the fellows with bows and swords, stepping from behind boulders and fallen pieces of masonry.

We bunched up, and I put myself at Lyse's right, while Alphinaud stepped to her left with his sister just behind him. I kept my hands still at my sides, but the looks we were getting were not the most reassuring. Then again, who could blame them?

At least we weren't out in the sun. I had been too busy keeping watch for enemies to really notice the heat, but it was markedly cooler here than it had been out among the hills. The pale stone there seemed to throw the sunlight back, heat radiating from the ground as well as from above. Not unpleasant, necessarily – especially when compared to, say, Coerthas – but less than ideal.

The men surrounded us, and simply stood waiting for a moment. I took heart from the way Lyse stood: relaxed, patient. This was exactly what she'd expected.

Three people walked towards us. I recognized the Miqote woman – M'Naago, who we'd taken in and patched up. Her eyes twinkled a little but she kept an otherwise professional attitude. The man in the center was clearly the leader – white hair and weathered skin told me he was also likely the oldest member of the Resistance. M'Naago stood at the man's left hand; and on his right...

I blinked a couple of times. _I know him_. I'd helped the man – gods, was it two years ago now? Maybe more. But I knew him by his hair, because I remembered wanting to ask him about it. Now I knew better, and I was glad I hadn't embarrassed myself with such a rude question. Meffrid met my eyes, and grinned – a wide, surprised, pleased grin, even more welcoming than M'Naago's twinkle.

They stopped about three yards from our little group. Just outside the loose perimeter defined by the guards, and I mentally nodded. These folks weren't haphazard – not some rag tag bunch of desperately angry insurgents. The tiny concerns that had been nagging the back of my mind evaporated. These were folk who could use our help – and would fight with every drop of blood in their bodies for their cause.

 _And Ilberd came through here, dragging away people they could ill afford to lose...all for a lie. A lie and a gods damned primal. If there is anything left of him, I hope he's suffering_.

Lyse and the leader had been speaking for a moment while I was woolgathering, and I made myself pay attention. It had been a long time since I needed to listen to political crap. But this was no time to slack off.

“I know you would not have come all this way unless you had something important to discuss,” the older man was saying, “and I am eager to hear what it is you have to say.” He gestured, and the guards stood down, backing away and then vanishing. _Very well constructed sentry posts, those..._

“Let's not do this on our doorstep, eh? Come with me.”

“We'd be happy to, Commander Kemp,” Alphinaud answered, as Lyse nodded. I decided to pretend I hadn't missed half the conversation, and followed the others as we began walking further into the canyon.

The group of us spread out, walking much more informally. Meffrid dropped back a bit to walk beside me. “I can't believe it,” he said with a smile. “How far you've come since Quarrymill, eh?”

“And yourself, it seems,” I answered. “How is Gallien these days?”

“Working as a stonemason, actually.” Meffrid's voice was calm. “It wasn't long after you last saw us before I decided to come back here, to join up with the people who were still fighting. Most of the others decided to make their separate ways after I disbanded the unit. I'm glad for them. They're happier now.” Then he grinned again. “I can't believe you remember.”

I shrugged. “I usually remember folks by what they asked me to do. Not you and yours, though. There was too much...wrong with the situation, I guess. But back then, I wouldn't have known where to start, how to help.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I never thought I'd see you here, but I'm glad.” He set one hand on my shoulder. “I'm glad.”

I smiled, and shoved the uneasy feeling down, that I _still_ didn't really know how to help. After all, someone was bound to tell me what to kill, eventually.

Walking through the canyon – valley – settlement, whatever...I saw a lot of tents. There seemed to be plenty of room, and not every single person we saw was clad in the Resistance uniform. I heard, off at some distance, the distinct racket of goats. I noticed that the rock here was paler, and seemed to be less stripey than the hills. The yellowish dust was completely absent, and the air was just a touch damp – not a surprise given the fast-flowing, if shallow, stream running down the middle of the floor of the valley. The water didn't emanate from the statue – which was how it had looked from the entrance point – but rather from a pool of water; the gigantic statue rose from the center of the pool, with a pair of gracefully curving bridges linking it to the shore. Mist sprayed up behind the statue, making for an impressive view. I saw a blue-haired Miqote woman – not in a uniform – dipping a bucket into the pool. Obviously the Reach was amply supplied with water, and it was likely impossible to poison. Except for the tents and fires, the place could easily look empty and abandoned. Most of the signs of occupation were tucked beneath the cliff walls. A canny way to use old ruins; I wondered how many tunnels led out from here, that couldn't be seen from the air or from out here in the valley itself. It was clear that the Resistance leaders were clever, determined, and resourceful. Hopefully they'd also be staunch allies.

Alphinaud made his initial speech to the commander. None of us were particularly surprised when Kemp told us that he would need to discuss the Alliance's offer with his people. At least we had leave – encouragement, even – to explore the settlement while we waited. Alisaie had one hand on her hip as she looked across the place from the relatively high point in front of the command pavilion. “Free to poke our noses wheresoever we will, eh? I like the sound of that.” She strode forward, heading for the knot of tents that we'd passed on our way here. Alphinaud followed just a step after her.

Krile and Y'Shtola were strolling towards the water's edge, and I headed after them.

“Ordinarily, I'd shudder at the thought of armed rebels trampling about in an ancient temple of immense historical importance─but Rhalgr is the breaker of worlds, so it seems rather appropriate, if anything,” Krile was saying as I joined them.

Y'Shtola nodded with a small smile, but her eyes were on the upper parts of the cliffs around us. “A massive, nigh-imperceptible glamour encompassing the entire valley... I see now how the settlement was able to escape the watchful eyes of Imperial airships.” She frowned very slightly. “But twenty years is a very long time for such protections to hold.”

“Still,” Krile said, “they seem to have everything well organized. I imagine it wouldn't take terribly long to evacuate if they had to.”

“I agree – oh, hm? What's all this?”

All three of us paused as a veritable herd of assorted animals went past, at speed. Behind them, a Miqote woman and child were in hot pursuit. The little girl was laughing, though the various adults getting hastily out of the way of this miniature stampede looked less than amused.

“Not _again_ , Kalisti?”

“Sorry!” The woman shouted the apology over her shoulder, and then they were gone, into a cavern off behind the command area.

I didn't hide my grin. “It seems there is enough safety here for those who aren't fighting as well,” I observed. “That's a good sign, right?”

Y'Shtola made a noncommittal noise in her throat, but before I could say more, Lyse caught up to us. “I practically know this place inside out,” she said to me. “If you'd like, I can show you around?”

“I would be very pleased to take a look at the infirmary,” Krile piped up. “After all, if we are to make ourselves useful, it would be good to know what sorts of healing they have already.”

“Good idea!” Lyse nodded, and led us off at a brisk pace. Now that we weren't in a formal situation, she seemed a lot more comfortable. I could sympathize.

The infirmary, as it turned out, was tucked inside a set of rooms cut into the rock. The whole place seemed like that – some rooms were huge, big enough for fifty cots, while others were mere narrow little closets. The carvings were simple, but striking. “This whole place used to be a temple,” Lyse explained as she saw me eyeing the ornamentation. “An order of monks lived here – the Fist of Rhalgr, naturally enough. They've been gone for ages, but they built this place to last. And it has.”

We didn't even have to say anything – Y'Shtola and Krile were deep in conversation with the other healers within a minute. Lyse cocked her head at me, and gestured with her thumb towards the doorway. I half smiled, and nodded; the two of us left our friends to do what they did best.

She led me to the central statue. As we walked across the stone bridge, I could see that the water here was deep – deep enough that I couldn't see the bottom. Behind the statue, a waterfall spilled over from the top of the cliffs, deceptively smooth until its path was interrupted by the rocks at the bottom.

The inscriptions at the base were less interesting to me, but I let Lyse talk about them. It was obvious that they mattered to her a lot, even before she mentioned her sister. So I listened as she told me about the legends and stories that she'd grown up hearing.

A creature passed by us as we moved away, and I blinked. Taller than me, slender and graceful – but the body was only female on top. The bottom half was very definitely snake like.

“The Ananta,” Lyse explained in an undertone. “They're beastmen – well, beastwomen really. Most of them want nothing to do with us – we're no different than the Garleans, to them. But a small faction has joined the Resistance, and they fight as well as any three regular soldiers.” She sighed a little. “Ananta make the most amazing jewelry. They use magics to twist metals and crystal into shapes you wouldn't believe. It's a pity people hardly ever get to see their work. But then most don't even know they exist.”

“They're all females?”

“As far as anyone knows. No one's asking them a lot of questions, of course.”

I nodded. “Fair.”

Next she led me through an area that almost mirrored the infirmary – rooms cut into the rock, ornamented columns and the like – but this space was clearly focused on supplies. Food-stuffs and various other materials were neatly stacked and hung. I frowned very slightly. I still remembered my weeks working with the Restoration back in Ishgard. These people weren't as numerous – but they still didn't appear to have a sufficient stockpile of food. Maybe that would be one of the things they asked of the Alliance – supply must be a huge challenge.

At the other end of this area, another cleft in the rocks appeared, but the natural alcove held an aetheryte. It wasn't the usual sort of design – but I had seen enough beast tribe aetherytes to not even raise my eyebrows at this. “It's an older design,” Lyse told me, “but it works as well as any other. Go on and attune to it, I'll wait.”

That didn't take a minute, and we were off once more, going around the corner and stopping in front of that knot of tents. Actually looking now, I nodded to myself. Merchants.

Lyse pointed to the fire. “What functions as the kitchen,” she said, “since people grab whatever there is, whenever they can.” She eyed me, humor glinting in her look. “Likely you won't want to try any of it. Never know just what got thrown in the pot for the day.”

I laughed out loud. “You have no idea the things I've eaten, my friend. Trust me, I'm not afraid of anybody's camp cooking.” I caught sight of a pair of familiar white-haired heads, and smirked. “Except Alphinaud's.”

He heard me, and turned around as I grinned. Lyse had her hand over her mouth, and Alisaie was chuckling as the twins stepped over to join us.

“It was _one time_ ,” he muttered in an aggrieved tone.

“It's so much fun to tease you about it though.”

He muttered something under his breath, and then cleared his throat, changing the subject. “It seems there is quite a range of goods on offer. Hardly surprising. Where there is war, there is profit to be had.”

Alisaie cocked her head at her brother. “They're a bold lot, that much is plain. If the Imperials found out they were peddling their wares to the Resistance, they would be lucky to escape with their lives.”

Alphinaud shook his head slightly, crossing his arms. A frown creased his brows. “It is a gamble, aye, and I admire their courage. But their motives could hardly be said to be altruistic.”

I blinked at him, honestly surprised at the disapproval in his tone. “Well, of course not,” I said. “Why should it be? They have families to feed, no doubt. I might not know much about commerce, Alphinaud, but just because they are making a profit doesn't mean their contribution is without merit.”

All three of them looked at me funny, as if I'd come out in spots all of a sudden. I eyed them back. “What?”

Before I could get an answer, M'Naago came around one of the tents. “Aha! Here you are. I've been looking all over for you.” She smiled. “We've finished discussing your proposal, and we're ready to receive you all back at the tent.”

Alphinaud's face cleared and he turned right around to follow the Miqote woman, with Alisaie and Lyse on his heels. I followed, still a little unsettled by the odd looks. Had I said something as strange as all that?

I stood listening as Kemp accepted the offer we had presented – with conditions. None of them surprised me in the least. The Resistance had lost a lot of people, and Lyse had already told us that there were many factions. The people here were the largest and best organized group. The splintered nature of the insurgency had likely been its biggest weakness. I wondered if the Imperials had encouraged that divisiveness. It fit their style. After all, why expend energy on harming your foes when you can persuade them to do it to themselves?

 _Cruel bastards_.

Alphinaud's brows were creased, and I knew he was making mental notes of every word and probably of things I didn't even notice. His reassurances to the Resistance commander brought a smile to the old man's face.

He dropped formality with a small chuckle. “Frankly,” he admitted, “everything's in a right bloody mess.”

Lyse perked up. “We'd be more than happy to get you back on your feet,” she said. “If we're going to work together, we'd be doing ourselves a favor!”

Kemp smiled at her. “Well, there's no shortage of work to be done, that's for sure. We're in dire need of new blood, too.”

Krile spoke up. “Y'Shtola and I could lend a hand in the infirmary. From what I saw, they could do with a few more healers.” Y'Shtola nodded once, and the two of them turned around and headed straight back to the infirmary.

Alphinaud lifted his chin. “Very well. I for my part shall return to the Rising Stones. I am certain there are others among the Scions who would welcome the opportunity to fight for Ala Mhigan liberation.” I didn't turn my head to watch him go, my attention staying on the commander.

Lyse coughed a little. “Is there anything else we can do to help?” she asked, with a touch of uncertainty in her voice.

“I had something in mind for you lot,” Kemp nodded. “M'Naago and Meffrid will tell you more.”

Lyse nodded. “We won't let you down,” she told him.

The commander left then, and the two soldiers spoke to each other for a moment in low voices. Alisaie muttered under her breath about not needing a keeper, but I knew better. Kemp would put us to work, one way or another. We weren't going to be just guests.

Finally, M'Naago stepped around the table. “Well, you can start with me or with Meffrid,” she said briskly, “but before we begin, I'd like to thank you and the Scions again for patching me up after I bled all over your floor. I owe you my life, and I won't forget that.” She rubbed at the back of her neck. “Furthermore, it was rude of me to run off without saying a word. It's all well and good me claiming my duties here couldn't wait, but a parting thank-you was the very least you deserved. My apologies. 

And...thank you.” She cleared her throat. I noticed Meffrid hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Commander Kemp's entrusted me with a formal reply to be hand-delivered to the Alliance leadership. It covers everything we discussed, as well as detailing the disposition of our forces. I could use an escort─one or two men at most, so we can make it to the Wall swiftly and without attracting undue attention.” She met my eyes. “If that suits you?”

I nodded.

“Very well,” Alisaie stepped to my side. “I shall join you in this. General Aldynn commands the forces at Castrum Oriens. It should be simple enough to see it into his hands.”

“Great! That's just what I wanted to hear!” M'Naago smiled. “When you're ready to depart, meet me at the pass leading out of the Reach.”

Lyse gave a little shrug. “I'll stay here and discuss a few things with Meffrid. You three should be well able for this task.”

Alisaie nodded, and headed off. Lyse grinned at the eagerness in her step and waved her fingers at me. “Go on then.”


	77. Do All You Can

The afternoon heat was even more oppressive than the mid-morning warmth had been, even with the stiff breeze that had come up. That breeze did, however, clear out the worst of the smoke and the dust. M'Naago and Alisaie took the lead, but we hadn't gone far when the Miqote stopped us with a raised arm and a hiss.

“What?” Alisaie asked.

“Quiet!” M'Naago's ears twitched. “Hear that? That was a ceruleum engine backfiring. Imperials.”

I cocked my head, and Alisaie looked astonished. “Ye gods, you have preternatural senses. I didn't hear a thing.”

The Miqote shrugged, not looking at us. “When you grow up hunting in these lands, you learn to discern the sounds that could mean life and death, be they of a predator or a patrol. From what I'm hearing...we have a seven-man patrol augmented with a single magitek armor. Wide search pattern. Divided into two─no, three teams. I don't think they know we're here.” She straightened for a moment, tapping her finger against her lips. “It's risky, but we should split up and try to take them all by surprise at the same time. We don't want them calling reinforcements.”

Alisaie nodded. “Three teams, three of us. Nothing for it, then. Where are they?”

M'Naago pointed to her. “Head north. You should see them long before they see you. I'll deal with the ones to the south. The armor should be just to the west─Berylla, you're best equipped to deal with that. We attack in five─that should be enough time to get into position. Rendezvous on the west bank after.”

She looked from me to Alisaie. “Any questions? No? Then good luck!” And with that she was loping off to the south.

Alisaie looked up at me, and we nodded at the same time. I pulled my axe off my back, and headed west.

Compared to the troops we'd fought at Carteneau, the patrolling men were...lackluster at best. The fight was almost boring. I realized, glancing over the ruined armor, that it was an older model, and very beat up. So they give the troops here the crappy equipment, eh? Betting the troops aren't terribly motivated to do their jobs well, either.

I loped off toward the river.

When I reached the spot where we'd crossed this morning, Alisaie and M'Naago were both waiting for me. Neither of them looked bothered, or even winded.

Alisaie greeted me with a wave. Her tone was dry. “I'm pleased to report that the Empire is short three soldiers─not that any self-respecting legatus would be sorry to lose them.”

M'Naago nodded. “The three soldiers I faced didn't put up much of a fight either.” She shrugged. “Most of the Imperials we get out here are conscripts from other provinces with little training and even less conviction. It's grim work, killing men and women like that, but don't doubt that they'd do the same to you if the roles were reversed. And don't you _dare_ pity a man in armor.” Her eyes were hard. “Conscript or no, a soldier piloting one of those can kill a dozen good men in the blink of an eye. Not that I need to tell you that, after what happened at the Wall.”

“Indeed.” I nodded once. “Let's keep going, then.”

“Yes, we've rested long enough.” M'Naago took the lead once more. Wading across the river, and trudging up the steep hills, we saw no one. The Miqote took one more good listen around, before turning to us and saying, “Only Alliance patrols from here. We can relax a bit.”

We jogged down the dirt road, and into the castrum.

Though M'Naago faltered at first, her awe of Raubahn was swiftly pushed aside and we got down to business. Pipin had already formulated a plan – a solid one – and before the hour was over, we had brief assignments and a rendezvous point. Alisaie nodded to me as we stepped out onto the road. She went right and I went left, and in short order I was lying in wait at the spot Raubahn had marked out for me on the map.

The patrol was, once again, under strength and poorly equipped. I was beginning to wonder if we'd all been worried about taking this place back for no reason. The prevailing attitude I was seeing was one of “we couldn't care less about these people or this land.” And yet, obviously the people of Gyr Abania were very unhappy. Something more was going on...and I couldn't figure out what.

I put it out of my mind as I headed for the rendezvous point. Time for speculation later, now it was time for action.

I arrived at the same time Alisaie did. She was frowning in disappointment. “My information must have been inaccurate,” she muttered to me as we came to stand beside Raubahn. “The patrol never came.”

“Mine did, but they were pushovers, just like earlier.” I shrugged. “Maybe this next lot will be different.”

“Prototype magitek weaponry?” She half smiled. “Yes, this may prove a challenge.” She looked anything but worried.

I heard footsteps and turned my head – then fully turned around, my jaw dropping. “ _Nightbird??_ ”

She tilted her head up at me, the gigantic feather on her hat dancing with the motion. Her eyes were bright with amusement. “Hello.”

“What...what are _you_ doing out here? I thought...”

“Lord Edmont saw fit to grant me permission to come here, and offer my services to the ongoing efforts. For today that means offering my bow. Tomorrow, perhaps there will be need for my healing abilities.”

Alisaie's eyes traveled up and down the Miqote, and then she grinned. “Well you certainly look capable. It is good to see you again, and a very pleasant surprise.”

“Indeed. Let us teach these Imperial worms a lesson, eh?”

Raubahn gestured to us, indicating that it was time to take up our positions.

Just as predicted, the larger patrol came down the road, clearly headed towards Oriens. When I saw the man in the lead, I laughed quietly to myself. _Grynewaht. I didn't get the chance to truly trounce that idiot back in Carteneau..._

We stepped out into the road, blocking their progress.

It wasn't at all an _easy_ fight. I was damn glad of Nightbird's bow, and of Alisaie's speed and agility. I had all I could do to handle the big guy and his robot – there was no other choice but to let them handle the smaller machines. However, when the Resistance fighters came in – exactly on time – the conclusion was foregone. Raubahn let the patrol leader escape. “Go on! Run to your viceroy!”

As Grynewaht fled, I – and everyone else – shouted in triumph.

Our victory was well earned, but we celebrated only for a few minutes. Soon enough we were headed back to Castrum Oriens. As we walked, I looked over at Nightbird.

“Surely you didn't just suddenly get the urge to come to a war-front,” I said. “What else is going on?”

She took off her hat and fanned herself with it. “Nothing much,” she told me. She let her steps lag a little so that M'Naago and Alisaie were ahead of us by a few feet. Only then did she cast a glance at me and murmur the real answer.

“It's Estinien.”

“Oh?”

“He's gone missing again. But this time he didn't even leave a note for Aymeric. All we know is that he headed east and south...”

I pondered. “But why?”

“That primal.” Nightbird saw my confused look, and dug in her pouch. She brought out a folded bit of paper and handed it to me. “Someone managed to recall some details of its appearance.”

I gazed at the sketch and shivered. “That's...is it a dragon?”

“Estinien certainly thought the resemblance was strong enough,” Nightbird sighed. “I fear he's gotten the notion in his head that he must track the beast down. Personally. I don't know if he thinks he can battle the monster alone, or if his plan is less foolishly suicidal than that.”

She was silent for a moment, her eyes far away. “I'm hoping,” she said at last, “that if I'm out here in the field, I will at least get word of him sooner.” Then she shook her head and gave me a little smile. “And anyway, I'm not wrong to offer help. These people _need_ all the help they can get.”

“Will you be coming to the Reach, then?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I've put myself at the General's disposal, with the caveat that I am not to be lumped in with the Scions without first consulting me.”

“Lumped in with us undesirables, huh?” I teased.

“Well, you _are_ trouble on two feet,” she retorted, and we both laughed.

We spent the night in the castrum, and I spent some time talking with Nightbird and Alisaie – mostly listening to Nightbird's stories of her past adventures. Alisaie seemed to understand why the Keeper didn't want to tie herself too tightly to the Scions; after all, she herself had been reluctant to formally place herself under our aegis. Too, the Scions were becoming more and more visible – and Nightbird had all the visibility she wanted under her singing persona. She didn't _want_ such attention drawn to her while she walked a path of danger.

“Alphinaud might question you a bit,” Alisaie warned her. Nightbird's smile was toothy.

“Let him ask what he likes,” she replied. “If he becomes too impertinent, I have no issue speaking up for myself. I'm sure he's quite used to having things all his own way, but he'll learn.”

I wasn't sure if I looked forward to seeing the two of them butt heads over something. After all, who could I root for? I'd be in trouble no matter whose side I took! The notion made me laugh to myself. It wouldn't be a real contest. Alphinaud was wonderful – but Nightbird was likely to eat him alive if he tangled with her.

Fed and rested, none of us had trouble rising at dawn. In the cool of the early morning, we made our way back to the Reach without seeing so much as a single monster. The sun wasn't even fully over the hills when we walked back into the valley.

Meffrid was waiting for us. M'Naago clapped him on the shoulder, and went on past him, up the hill to the command tent. Alisaie followed her, giving me a little wave of her fingers. Lyse came trotting up, waving a greeting to the two other women as she passed them.

Meffrid smiled. “They're well able to debrief the commander. I've a trip to make, into the Peaks; Conrad thinks we might have luck finding new recruits in the village of Ala Gannha.”

Lyse's eyes widened. “Ala Gannha!? If you're going there, you're taking me with you!”

“Ah, that's right─you're from Ala Gannha, aren't you, Lyse? By all means, we'd welcome the company. There'll be more to it than just asking around, but we can talk about it on the way.” He pointed towards one of the alcoves on the right hand side, behind the sutlers' tents. “Make your preparations and meet me by the tunnel to the Peaks.”

He moved off, and I looked at Lyse, my eyebrows raised. She gave me a slightly self-conscious smile. “Yda and I were born in Ala Gannha, though I can't say I remember much about it.”

For half a moment I felt again the slight emptiness of not knowing such mundane details. I didn't even have vague memories of a birthplace. Somehow it didn't trouble me as it once had, though.

“Do you need anything before we go?” Lyse asked me. I laughed slightly. I hadn't even set down my pack.

We found Meffrid not far inside the gallery that was carved into this side of the valley. He was speaking to a soldier, and nodded to us as we came up.

“This tunnel will take us all the way to the Peaks.” He nodded to the soldier, then. “Clear the barricade, if you would.”

“Aye, sir. Shouldn't take more than a moment.”

“There're more villages there than out here─but also more Imperials keeping a close eye on things. We'll need to tread carefully.” Meffrid eyed me. “But I'm pretty sure you can handle that.”

There was quite a bit of loud scraping noises as the soldier hauled on sections of the odd-looking but sturdy barricade; still, it was put together well enough to make opening it simple.

“Way's clear,” Meffrid nodded to me. “After you, Berylla.”

We came out into a ruined building. From the looks of the carvings, it had also been part of the temple – or at least built by the same people. Lyse looked around at the wreckage. “This wasn't the work of the Garleans, but of Theodoric. His army massacred the monks here decades ago. By the time the Black Wolf arrived with his legion, it was already a ruin.”

“We've a glamour in place here too, as you may have noticed. So far as the Imperials are concerned, this is naught more than a testament to the savage impulses of a lesser race.” Meffrid shook his head. “Remember, though: once we leave these ruins, we'll have no glamours to conceal us. The village is to the east; keep watch for patrols as we move.”

I surveyed the landscape beyond the ruins. Stripey hills – taller, steeper than the ones outside the Reach. The rocks were red, with occasional bands of darker brown or pale pink. There were trees here, though, and grass, dotted with wildflowers. Obviously there was a deal more water to be had here, though I didn't see any evidence of streams. Or maybe it was something else that gave the plants the vigor to grow this way. I shook my head. It didn't matter right now. What mattered was the vegetation existed, and was enough to use as cover.

As we moved out, the rising sun glittered on something far away on the heights. Lyse stopped in her tracks, her mouth falling open. When I saw the needle like spire, my own jaw dropped a little.

“Gods, look at that tower to the southeast. How long did it take them to build it...?”

The giant tower at Velodyna was blocky, almost brutish, compared to the elegant construction before us. Multiple towers rose as if they would pierce the heavens. More towers – further back, or shorter? – were topped with spinning things that looked like very odd pitchforks to my eyes. The sunlight glinted off of metal and glass, and I realized with dismay that each glimmer was a single window. With that for an idea of scale, it drove home to me how _far away_ the thing was. _How many tons of metal must be in that thing? How could such a building even stand up?!_

Meffrid nodded once. “Aye. Specula Imperatoris. Literally the Emperor's Watchtower. They can see everything in the area from up there, or so I've heard. We'll need to watch our path carefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS.  
> I cannot believe it! AYC has passed 5000 hits as of this chapter being posted!!!!
> 
> I first need to say - thank every one of you who has read, commented, subscribed, all of it. I am in awe of the amount of support this work has gotten, and I am deeply humbled.
> 
> Second - I have posted something special to celebrate this, "Illusion" is the name, enjoy!


	78. Stay Your Hand

The journey to the village was easy, quiet – and somehow the fact that nothing attacked us or even noticed us made me all the more wary. There was no way it was all going to be this easy.

The village didn't look like much – most of the dwellings appeared to be cut into the red stone cliffs. Apparently, this was a common thing for Ala Mhigan homes in general – to be cut into the rock, or built of carved stone. I hadn't missed the odd looking bridges that seemed to connect nothing at all. I resolved to ask about it...later.

The villagers didn't approach us as we walked in. They noticed us – but they seemed unwilling to so much as meet our eyes. I saw how thin some of them were; how worn their clothes. These were not people who were prospering. But they weren't angry either. They dealt with their tasks just as any other folk might, but there was a listlessness to it, a curve to their shoulders that spoke to me of people beaten down and exhausted.

Meffrid approached a white-haired man, and spoke with him for a few moments. Raganfrid was, clearly, the leader of the village, though I was more used to seeing such men insist on some manner of pomp. All this man had was a presence about him, but no other special thing marked him out. I wondered, with a cold feeling in my belly, if the Imperials made a hobby of harming local leaders.

I listened as the old man explained – then railed – and in the end refused to help us at all. I couldn't blame him. It was obvious that this place couldn't afford to lose what able-bodied people it had. Ilberd, damn him, had drained what little the Garleans hadn't wrung out of them.

Lyse took it poorly, storming off after exchanging harsh words with Raganfrid. Meffrid sighed, and then led me after her to talk.

He didn't reprimand her, instead choosing to think out loud about our quandary.

“I was hoping Raganfrid might help us to recruit some of his people, but that clearly isn't going to happen. If we're to convince any of them to join, we'll first need to regain their trust.” He shrugged. “It's risky, and it's hardly subtle, but I say we approach the villagers directly─see what problems they've got, and if we can do anything to help.”

“Well, it's something familiar,” I said with a small smile. “I'm sure we can manage to find a few folks who need something done.”

And so we did. While I went out and took care of a few monsters, Meffrid talked with the villagers, and Lyse made her way around as well – I got the idea she was trying her hardest to revive what few, hazy memories she had of this place. She had been born here...but she had left a long time ago. Still, she was being friendly, and that wasn't doing any harm at all.

I came back in the late afternoon, a bit sweaty and tired but overall pleased enough with what I'd managed to accomplish. The folks I had helped had been grateful – and though gratitude was about all they could offer, they had also been honest with me. This whole place had once relied on quarrying for its livelihood; but without enough strong backs to do the work, the quarry sat empty, basically abandoned. Meanwhile, the Imperials continued to demand a fifth of everything they had, with no allowances of any kind. At this point, I imagined the whole village didn't have two coins to rub together.

There were fields – good looking ones, too, tall grain and healthy crops – vigorous and plump. But every speck of that food went to the Imperials, without so much as the gleanings left for the village itself. The only reason they didn't all starve had more to do with the abundance of fish in the river that flowed beside the place, and a canny knowledge of wild forage, than any mercy on the part of their overlords. Just another piece of casual cruelty.

Meffrid greeted me. He had an empty bucket in each hand. “I've just got done helping them out as much as I can, showing them some more tricks to hide away food and the like. Going to get us a bit of water. We'll have to camp just outside the village, most likely. They can't afford the Imperials finding us here. Go and find Lyse, would you? Last I saw of her, she was trying to start up a conversation with some of the fellows her own age.”

I nodded, and he passed by me on his way to the water. I stood for a moment, scanning the village until my eye lit on a streak of gold-blond catching the sun.

As I walked up, I could hear her speaking. She didn't sound happy.

“I didn't mean it that way.”

“And where were you these past twenty years!?” The second voice was male, and I saw the fellow as I came around the corner of the tent where the two of them stood. He was tall, broad in the shoulder, dark skinned like Meffrid – and plainly furious. “Where were you when we were being ground under the Black Wolf's boot? On the other side of his bastard wall, living the high life, I'll wager!” He spat into the dirt at Lyse's feet.

“Wiscar! That's not fair!” Lyse gasped.

“Given that you were dragged out of here at age five, yeah, I'd agree on that.” I couldn't help myself. I crossed my arms and gave the young man a raking glance.

He sneered at me. “And who's this, another one of your freedom-loving friends, deigning to help us poor unfortunate souls?” He curled his hands into fists, and I wondered if he'd actually throw a punch at one of us. “Trying to whip us into a frenzy so we'll go and storm a castrum with our pickaxes and shovels!? Leave, all of you, before you bring a cohort down on us all!”

Wiscar loomed over Lyse, edging into her space. “And you─don't you dare speak like you're one of us. You can't even begin to understand what we've been through. You weren't here, Lyse!  _ You weren't here!” _

She made a small sound, and I tensed, watching him closely. We wouldn't be helped by violence; but I wasn't going to let this brute strike us, either.

But he stepped back, and though his tone still dripped with anger, he no longer looked like he wanted to punch her. “This is my home, and I love it with all my heart. And if you truly have any love for it too, you'll keep us out of your doomed rebellion.”

He turned and walked away.

I blew out a breath, making myself relax a touch, and turned to look at Lyse. Her cheeks were damp, but she shook her head, and when she spoke her voice was steady. “Wiscar has a point. No matter what I say or do, it doesn't change the fact I left them behind. But this isn't about me, or anyone else. It's about Ala Mhigo. Let's go and find Meffrid.”

I walked with her to the water's edge, where Meffrid had filled up the buckets and was, apparently, fishing for our dinner. He looked up as Lyse sat down. I eased myself down as well, so that she was between me and Meffrid.

“I knew it wouldn't be easy,” she began, then sighed.

“Looks like the elder wasn't the only one unwilling to hear us out. Can't blame them, given what happened at the Wall.” His voice was sympathetic.

“I thought I might be able to appeal to them as a fellow...I don't know. But, if anything, it just made them angrier. I haven't lived through it like they have.” Lyse lowered her head, her slim shoulders bowed.

Meffrid yanked on the line, pulled in a fish, stuck in one of the buckets beside him, and cast again, before he spoke.

“I can't claim to know the struggle like they do either, Lyse. I ran too, aye, but if I hadn't, I'd've never met Berylla or the rest of you, and we might not be here today, in a position to make a difference. 

So I don't regret my choices, nor will I apologize for them. There's more than one way to fight.”

She looked up at him, and I saw her thinking over his words.

It occurred to me that Papalymo had always done her thinking for her. He had protected her, maybe a little too much. She was having to learn now, the hard way, and fast. My heart hurt for her a little and yet – this would have happened eventually, even without Ilberd and Ascians and Imperials. Papalymo would have made her strike out on her own – no doubt he had had some sort of plans regarding that. But he hadn't bargained for what had happened. None of us could have predicted the events that had led us here.

I just hoped that she would be able to catch up, and cope, and come out of this better rather than broken.

Meffrid caught another fish, and was just tossing it into the bucket when we heard a high voice crying out, near the entrance to the village.

“Someone, anyone! We need help!”

Meffrid's eyes flew to mine. “I don't like the sound of that one bit.” He set aside the fishing rod and got up. “Come on.”

We wasted no time, crossing the village square and stopping in front of the young girl who was bent over her knees, gasping for breath. A couple of the other villagers stood near as well.

Meffrid stepped closer. “Take a deep breath and tell us what happened,” he told the girl.

“It – it was all business as usual.” she panted. “The tribute's due soon, and we were taking it to the Imperials when the qiqirn attacked! They took my brother, and our money!”

“Took him where?” Lyse demanded, as the other villagers shuffled and muttered, sounding worried.

“The ruins – to the south of here,” the girl answered. “Was just an old temple before...”

I heard Wiscar 's voice. “If the ratmen took him to the ziggurat, he's as good as dead.”

“Listen!” The girl straightened and set her hands on Meffrid's jacket, her eyes desperate. “Wercrata's the only family I've got left! If I lose him...!”

Lyse clenched her fists. “We've got to get after them! If there's even a chance her brother is still alive, we have to try! We can save him if we hurry!”

Wiscar frowned at her. “You shouldn't get her hopes up like that. Everyone knows the ratment eat their prisoners...”

The girl collapsed to her knees, wailing. Both Lyse and Meffrid gave Wiscar identical, withering glances before starting away at a jog. Lyse looked back at me. “Come on!”

I nodded, and spared Wiscar one pitying glance of my own before I followed them.

“Even if we can't help the missing man,” Meffrid said grimly as we ran, “We've got to try and recover the tribute. The Imperials won't suffer excuses if they're late.”

“Then let's not waste more time,” Lyse snapped. “Which way is this ziggurat? Surely we three can handle some measly qiqirn!”

Meffrid took the lead. “They may not be the most challenging foes,” he warned, “but there's sure to be a lot of them. Be prepared for a fight.”

We careened around a bend in the road, and there it was – the weirdest looking thing I'd ever seen, like two pyramids stacked on top of each other, but one of them was point down. My eyes didn't want to accept what I saw for a moment, and I was glad to look down at the base of the thing.

I had fought qiqirn in plenty – they really weren't much of a threat to any reasonably well trained fighter...but these ones gave me half a second's pause. Their eyes glowed, a malevolent red gleam, and they chattered in a tone that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Man-flesh is ours to eat!” they screeched, and threw themselves at us.

They still weren't very tough to kill – a couple of swings of my axe was enough to kill one. But every one I dropped, two more leaped into the fray. We made our way to a set of wide stairs that led to the top of the structure, leaving a trail of bodies and blood in our wake. Lyse accounted for more of the fallen than I did – she was a whirlwind of fists and feet, and whenever she hit one, I could hear bone shattering. Her targets went flying backwards and flopped on the ground for a moment before going still. Meffrid wasn't doing too badly either, though in his case he was swinging a wickedly curved sword. The thing seemed to be taking out three with every long swipe.

Even so, getting up the stairs was a difficult and very bloody mess.

We paused at the top, and both Meffrid and Lyse took a second to try and catch their breaths.

“I thought you said they wouldn't be a challenge!” Lyse complained, panting.

Breathing just as hard, Meffrid answered, “I also said there'd be a bloody host of them!”

Winded as I was, I still laughed a little.

Then I spied the man we were after. He was cowering against a pack-bird, and a pair of qiqirn were advancing on him, knives in their paws.

I yelled and charged forward, slamming into them and knocking them away.

They pounced on me, knives flashing in the bloody light of the setting sun.

I yelped as one leaped onto my back, its claws digging into my skin, but I didn't let that stop me from swinging at the one coming for my knee caps. I heard Lyse yelling, but my focus was purely on the snarling thing in front of me. It took my first hit and my second, and still it stood, staggering back to try to attack me again. Spittle flew from its mouth and it cackled, a laugh of pure madness.

Something yanked at my hair, but I felt the weight of the creature vanish and knew that Lyse or Meffrid had reached me. I rushed the vicious monster even as it tried to slash at me with its dagger, and my axe caught in its belly and gutted it. Hot blood spattered across the stones and the two creatures that were coming up on me abruptly changed their minds, fleeing with hissed curses.

I spun around, ready to take on another enemy – in time to see Lyse execute a spectacular spinning kick that lofted the foe up into the air and sent it sailing right over the edge of the roof.

I relaxed a bit, realizing that we were now the only ones alive up here. Us, and the cowering young man.

We approached him, and heard him muttering. Clearly he hadn't noticed yet that he was rescued.

“I've gone to bed hungry for months,” he was saying. “I'm skin and bones! I'd hardly make a snack, much less a meal!”

Lyse touched his shoulder, and he yelped and spun around. His bird whistled nervously.

“W-Wait! Don't eat me – oh. Oh.” He looked at the three of us, panic giving way to confusion. “Are you here to rescue me?” I could see that the qiqirn had scratched him up, but he seemed otherwise fine.

Lyse smiled. “Your sister sent us. It's going to be all right.”

“My sister? Oh, Rhalgr be praised, she's s safe! And you...you lot fought your way in here just for me? To think there are still good, brave folk in this world.” He seemed utterly amazed by this realization.

Meffrid patted his shoulder. “We should go before the qiqirn return in force. Do you still have the tribute?”

Wercrata's eyes went wide. “Oh, gods! The tribute! The Imperials will be wondering where I am! I have to go!”

“What, right _now?_ ” Lyse demanded. “In your condition?”

“You don't understand,” the young man babbled. “We were given a warning last month for being short! If I don't make it in time, there's no telling what might happen to me and my sister!”

And without another word, he bolted, his bird on his heels.

Lyse started after him, clearly wanting to stop him. Meffrid put his arm in her way, and shook his head.

She stared at the older man in shock and growing understanding.

“Folk like him are barely considered people under Imperial rule,” Meffrid told her, grimly. “They're to work hard and pay their taxes, and if they don't, there'll be seven hells to pay. Beatings, imprisonment, enslavement...and as for their womenfolk...well.”

Lyse's eyes blazed with rage, and I knew I was growling when I saw Meffrid glance my way.

She pounded her fist into her palm. “I've got a bad feeling about this,” she snarled.


	79. Be Not Quick to Judge

Lyse turned to me. “Listen. I think we need to go after him.”

Meffrid set his hand on her shoulder in an ungentle grip. “You had better not be thinking of stopping him! You heard what he said – if they don't pay one way, they'll pay another!”

“I know that!” Lyse shoved his hand away. “I know that. I do. I just...want to see that he makes it there safely.”

He eyed her warily. “If that's the sum of it,” he allowed, “then fine. Let's head down and see if we can't pick up his trail.”

At the bottom, we had the place to ourselves. The bloody evidence of our arrival remained, and clearly the rest of the qiqirn were still in hiding.

I noticed the tracks on the ground, and followed the path around to the road. There, lying in a rutted spot, was a single yellow feather.

“Looks like his bird came this way, at least,” Meffrid said, as I picked the plume up. He glanced around, assessing the area. “There's a collapsed bridge just around the bend,” he said, nodding in the direction. “Hug the rocks, stick to the shadows. There's a path that cuts through, and will put us there ahead of him. We'll find him soon enough.”

As we moved, Lyse asked Meffrid, “Can they really see us all the way up there in that tower?”

“We've never been able to get strong evidence as to just how good the sight lines are,” he admitted, “but people have been living in the shadow of that thing for decades. When they added the new spires a couple of years ago, the watching just got worse.”

We came upon the collapsed bridge he had mentioned, and he gestured to us. “Any minute now, I expect he'll come thundering down the road...there! Hear that? Get to cover, quickly!”

We all found spots to crouch – really not all that hard, the chunks of masonry were more than large enough to hide even someone as tall as me. Sure enough, we heard and then saw Wercrata, running all out, headed for a pillar that had once supported the very bridge we were hiding against now.

As he approached, a group of strangely dressed fighters was sauntering down another section of bridge – a piece that had fallen in a way that made it more of a ramp than a ruin.

“Are they Imperials?” Lyse whispered.

“Worse,” Meffrid answered. Even though he too was whispering I could hear the tension in his voice. “They're Skulls.” He fixed his eyes on Lyse. “Listen. Whatever happens, stay hidden and do not intervene. Understood?”

She stared at him, appalled. “What?”

“You there!” The Skull in the lead raised his voice, sounding irritated. “Halt! You know you're not supposed to be here. Explain yourself!”

I watched the body language, and knew that the three men in their garish costumes and stylized masks were nothing but common bullies. They might have some kind of fancy name, but I'd seen it before. These weren't men of discipline. They were thugs.

“Forgive me!” Wercrata cried out, stopping as he had been ordered. “I came to deliver the tribute!”

“Oh?” The Skull sneered. “A likely story! Only a fool would dare come so late...or a Resistance spy.” His laugh was nasty.

Desperation edged Wercrata's words. “No! No, you've got it all wrong! I was waylaid by bandits! It's not my fault!”

He pulled out a pouch and took a single step forward, offering it to the masked thug.

“I said halt!”

The punch landed squarely and Wercrata sprawled backwards into the dirt. The pouch hit the ground, and even from where we crouched, I could hear the jingle of coin.

The Skull lifted the pouch, and hefted it. “Is this a joke?” His voice dripped disdain. “You don't seriously expect us to believe this is a fifth?” Anger replaced the disdain. “How stupid do you think we are?”

Wercrata struggled to his knees. “It is! I swear!”

The Skull on the right rushed the young man, and kicked him in the ribs, hard. Wercrata crashed to the ground with a cry. His bird whistled in distress, backing up a step.

“Spare us,” the first Skull snarled. “You came late, you lied about bandits, and then you tried to cheat the Empire of its due.”

The third man came up, and all of them began to kick the downed man, cursing and laughing in turns.

Lyse started to leap to her feet. I grabbed her arm, and wrangled her down by main force. Meffrid grabbed her shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and she glared at him.

“Think you can kill them all – including the ones in the tower?” His voice was low, intense, furious. “Even if you did, others would come for him – and his family. You'd be condemning them all to a life of hard labor – assuming they didn't just execute them, that is.”

She stared into his face for a long moment, and then sank back down into her hiding spot. She was shaking. “But it isn't fair!” she whispered.

The Skulls were still beating and haranguing Wercrata. He was holding his arms over his head, and his bird was whistling and stamping, near panic.

“All right! That's enough!”

The voice was female, and I squinted a little.

Orange hair, and a slightly different – though no less garish – costume than the others. No mask, and a face that might have been pretty, except for how cold her expression was. She paid no mind to the moaning man in the dirt, her eyes pinning the three Skulls. “Lord Zenos is expecting our report,” she said, her words clipped, emotionless. “We'll be leaving now.”

There was a moment of tension, and then the middle Skull – the one that had been doing most of the talking – protested. But he wasn't shouting now, and I couldn't make out what he said. But I could see the gestures, and knew he was more or less whining to continue the beating.

The woman spoke a single word, and all three of the men stiffened and performed a salute. She turned her back to them and started back up the ramp, and without a glance back, they followed her.

Meffrid watched as Wercrata rolled to his feet, and staggered over to his bird. The young man leaned against the animal for a moment, muttering, calming it. “I'll bet the poor bastard can't believe his luck,” Meffrid muttered, and his voice was laden with rage. “He gets to go home.”

Lyse looked like she wanted to either launch herself at the Skulls, or run out to help poor Wercrata.

But even as she started to move, I hissed a warning.

The woman had paused, letting the three men go ahead of her, and was looking back towards us. No...at us? Meffrid drew back, and all three of us froze. That cold gaze lingered on the bridge for a long moment, and then she turned and continued to walk away.

“That was damn close,” Meffrid breathed. “I had heard their leader was keen-eyed, but that was uncanny.”

I nodded. Wercrata passed us, limping badly, his bird still making little, upset sounds.

Lyse looked like she'd bitten something very sour. “We could have done something, instead of just...just letting it happen.”

“It tears me up inside to see our own kinsmen doing the bidding of the viceroy,” Meffrid said, “but they made their choice. If it comes to it, I'll cut down every last one of them myself.”

He glanced out at the ramp – no sign of the Skulls remained. “I for one,” he said, would rather not wait around to see if the Skulls decide to return this evening. We'd best get back to Ala Gannha and tell Raganfrid that his man got the job done.”

The village was quiet when we got back. But, to my mild surprise, there was a small fire going, with the fish that Meffrid had caught earlier neatly spitted and roasting. And turning them was Raganfrid.

“We owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did,” he told us as we walked up. “Wercrata told me everything. How you fought with the qiqirn, and saved his life.”

“For all the good it did,” Lyse answered, her voice heavy with guilt. “We saw what happened when he met with the Skull. How they beat him half to death.” She glared at Meffrid. “We could've stopped them.”

Raganfrid gazed up at her, his eyes sad. “Aye, I reckon you could,” he nodded. “Meffrid's a warrior, as is your friend there. And you're strong, like your father. That much is plain.” He stood up, and met her eyes squarely. “But I thank Rhalgr you did not, because it would not have ended with them. Wercrata and his sister would have been branded insurgents, if not the whole lot of us.” He spread his hands. “Bones heal. Scars fade. But the dead remain dead.” As Lyse stared at him, he shook his head a little. “We're alive, and that's more than can be said for only the gods know how many others.”

“That's enough for you, is it?” Lyse demanded. I heard the pain beneath the anger in her words. “To put up with whatever they do to you, so long as you get to see another day?”

The old man's mouth tightened. “That's right. You grit your teeth and you learn to live with the pain.”

She looked away.

“I'll admit I was too quick to judge you, Lyse, and for that I apologize. I know you and yours mean well, I do. But I'm telling you, gods in the heavens as my witness, that we've got nothing left to give. We can't help you.”

She was silent for a long moment. Then, in a low voice, she answered. “I understand. Thank you for your honesty.”

But she turned and walked away into the twilight.

Raganfrid sighed, his gaze following her. I saw a hint of moisture in his eyes. But he spoke to Meffrid. “She may say it, but she doesn't mean it. Nor would I expect her to─her father was stubborn as an ox too. If she's set on walking the same path, I but pray she won't follow it to the same end.” He rubbed at his forehead a moment. “Anyroad, feel free to sleep here tonight. It's about all we can do to pay you back.”

“Thank you,” Meffrid said. “We'll be on our way in the morning.”

Raganfrid nodded once, and walked away.

Meffrid looked at me. “Well. She took it better than I anticipated. Which isn't saying much, I suppose. We should go and see if she's all right.”

We found her easily enough, standing just on the other side of the fence that marked off the village bounds. She looked up as we approached, and scrubbed at her cheeks.

“Sorry about running off like that.” She took a deep breath. “Ala Mhigans terrorizing their own...? I just can't accept it, you know? No matter what he thinks, they shouldn't have to put up with it, day after day after day...” She shook her head, and turned to look up at the sky, where the evening star was just beginning to shine. “I'm not completely naive, you know. I didn't expect them to “storm a castrum with their pickaxes and shovels,” or whatever it was. But nor did I expect Wercrata to just lie there in the dirt while they kicked him. I can't claim to know their pain. I barely remember this place or...or even my father's face. But I remember Yda's. I remember how scared she was when we ran...and that look in her eyes when she talked about home.” Her head bowed. “Her home...but not mine, is it?”

“There you are, Lyse.”

We all turned at the voice. Wiscar walked up, stopping an arm's length from Meffrid. “I've,” he cleared his throat. “I've been looking all over for you.”

Lyse set her shoulders. “Well. You've found me. Got something else to say?”

“Aye, that I do...” The broad-shouldered young man shuffled his feet a moment. “I, um...I said some things to you before that I shouldn't've. Wasn't my place to do so, and I'm sorry.” He looked at her, and his brow wrinkled. “All that rubbish I spouted about how I loved my village...but when one of ours was in need, I was cowering here with all the others. I didn't even think to go after Wercrata...but you did. Made me feel like...like the bloody hypocrite I am!” He punched his fist into his palm. Then, he straightened. “If I truly cared for my people, I'd fight for them. So I will...if you'll have me.”

Lyse's eyes went wide, and she exchanged a quick glance with Meffrid. “You – you're asking to join the Resistance?”

The light was failing, and anyway the man was dusky skinned so it was hard to be sure if he was blushing – but there was a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“Well, when you put it like that, I, uh...I suppose I am.” He seemed to rally, then. “But not just me – there are others I know who've been thinking about it for a while now. There's not many of us, and we're not hardened warriors like you lot...”

Meffrid grinned, his teeth gleaming even in the fading light. “If your heart bleeds for Ala Mhigo, then that's good enough for me. You and yours are more than welcome at Rhalgr's Reach.”

Wiscar's face brightened. “Thank you, sir! You won't regret this! I'll go and speak with the others and send word when we're ready!” And off he went.

Meffrid gestured, and the three of us walked back to the little fire. We didn't speak for a time, as we ate the grilled fish and cleaned the dust off ourselves. But as we rolled ourselves into our blankets, I heard him speak in the darkness.

“Still think this isn't your home?”

Lyse made an odd little noise, something that conveyed embarrassed pleasure. Meffrid didn't push, just chuckled.

“We'll head back to the Reach in the morning. Sleep well, the both of you.”

We left before the sun rose, with only Raganfrid awake to see us off. The trip was quiet. Lyse was thinking hard, and Meffrid seemed inclined to let her be. As for me...I had a lot to think about, too. I was used to the world being unfair. I'd thought myself hardened to the cruelties people would inflict on each other given an excuse. But what I'd seen yesterday sickened me.

Those men – those thugs – had taken pleasure in causing pain. What sort of sickness tainted the Empire, that such behavior was tolerated – even encouraged? It was pure madness. Allowing such men to operate freely didn't just harm one's enemies – it stood a good chance of harming even the most prized of citizens. Why would anyone allow such risk to their own people?

By the time we stepped out of the tunnel and into the Reach, I still had no answers.

Meffrid walked us to the cook-fire, where we all took a mug of tea from a communal pot. He smiled as he lifted his. “First of all, allow me to commend you both on a job well done.” He sipped, and gave a quiet laugh. “Though nothing went according to plan, we nevertheless managed to attract some new recruits. And it was your passion and conviction that moved them to join. Thank you.”

Lyse shook her head. “No, thank you─for giving me an opportunity to find out what our people have been through these past twenty years. It's been...humbling.” She looked into her mug, pensive. “And troubling, too. I'd heard about the Skulls, but that was the first time I'd seen them in the flesh.

I know you say they're the same as any other Imperial soldiers─and maybe that's how I'll have to think of them myself if our paths ever cross on the battlefield...”

Meffrid finished his tea. “When, not if. That day will come, Lyse. You can't afford to hesitate when it does.” His eyes were serious as he looked at her. “Young, old, conscript, citizen, Garlean, Ala Mhigan─none of that matters. They've all got their reasons. But they're no better than yours, especially when they're bearing down on you, blade in hand.”

Lyse looked away. I sympathized. She'd always believed the best of people. For the first time in her life, she was seeing a different truth, and realizing that her old ways would only get her hurt out here.

After a moment, he took pity on her. “Saying that, I don't want to kill them any more than you do. If I could convince them to lay down their arms, I would. Sadly, I've never been much of a talker myself, but who knows, maybe you could be one, Lyse. Your father certainly was.”

She looked back at him, and smiled a little. He nodded. “Right, then. I'd best begin preparing for these new recruits. Berylla, Lyse, it's been a pleasure.” He saluted, and walked away.

We strolled over to the infirmary, to look in on our friends and let them know we were back. Alisaie was working with a pair of soldiers – some sort of sparring – and we waved, but let her alone otherwise. Krile looked up with a smile as we came inside. “Ah, been to the Peaks and back, have you? Glad to see you're in good health.”

Y'Shtola gave us both a small wave, before going back to whatever concoction she was decanting into dark brown glass bottles. “I hear you have been busy. As have we, lest you wonder.”

Lyse grinned. “I can see that.”

“Alphinaud should be arriving this morning,” Krile told us. “Any minute now, I shouldn't wonder.”

“Then we'd probably better go show our faces around the command tent,” I said, trying not to look eager. But I was, more than I would have admitted to any of them.

We walked over, not hurrying. Lyse gave me a look. “So.” Her eyes twinkled. “You and Alphinaud?”

“You make it sound like there's something to gossip about, but there's really not.”

“What did you two fight about? You never did talk to me about it.”

“Oh,” I waved my hand vaguely. “Misunderstandings. Expectations, I guess.”

“And that wasn't at all the reason we didn't see or hear from you for three weeks straight.” She said it like a statement, but I knew better.

“He kissed me, Lyse.”

Her mouth formed an “oh” of surprise, and her eyes started to gleam. I held up one hand before she could say a word.

“After which, I very emphatically told him no. He didn't take it well.”

“Whyever did you do a thing like that?”

I gave her an astonished look. “Are you serious? He's what, seventeen...”

“No, they're eighteen now. I suppose neither of them mentioned that their name-day came and went while you were away.”

I stopped in my tracks, my brain hiccuping. “They – wait, what? I knew I missed their birthday but...but...”

She giggled at me. “You look like someone smacked you in the back of your head.”

“Still.” I shook my head, hard enough to make my ponytail nearly whack me in the face. “It's just...not the best idea in the world. I'm not interested in being mate _and_ mama.”

“Oh, I don't think he sees you as any kind of mother figure.” She grinned. “Not if the things I saw in his sketch book are any indication.”

I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut and frowned deeply at her. I could see it in the way her eyes danced, she was taunting me, trying to make me ask just what she'd seen. She was having far too much of a laugh at my expense.

“Even if,” I coughed, “even if either of us wanted to actually...this is the worst possible time. In the middle of a war? Come on, it would be pure foolishness to try and build a relationship with all this mess going on. We're likely to be so busy we'll meet ourselves coming.”

“Fair enough.” But she snickered. “Want me to nick one of those sketch books for you in the mean time?”

“ _Lyse Hext, you'd better not!_ ”

Her peal of laughter echoed off the stone cliff, and I had all I could do to not bury my face in my hands in pure mortification.


	80. Generosity and Expedience

Fortunately I had managed to control myself – and Lyse had gotten over her fit of impish humor – by the time we heard a group of folks approaching the command tent. Alisaie and I stepped out into the sun, and I waved a little when Alphinaud came into view.

“I see operations here have been proceeding apace in my absence.” Following him were three of the Scions – folks I didn't know very well, though the blond just behind Alphinaud seemed vaguely familiar.

“Welcome back, Brother dearest. I take it your efforts to gather new recruits were successful.”

I took a step back and to the side, ushering them all closer to the table where Kemp waited.

Alphinaud stepped up, but immediately gestured to the three with him, so that they came to stand even with him and to his left. “Commander, as I had hoped, there were several among the Scions' ranks that were quite eager to take part in our joint endeavor with the Resistance, whom I am come to present.” He nodded to the tall blond.

“Commander Kemp, if I may! My name...my name is Arenvald Lentinus. A...a half-breed, as you can doubtless tell.” He cleared his throat. “I'm here to fight for a free Ala Mhigo. For an Ala Mhigo where women like my mother are never made to suffer. I pray you grant me this honor.”

The older man regarded Arenvald with a kind smile. “You are a true-born son of Gyr Abania, same as me. This is not my honor to grant, but yours to freely take. Welcome, brother.”

Arenvald colored a bit, then bowed and took a step back. The other two Scions simply gave their names and bowed once, clearly content to simply listen.

Kemp nodded, and then regarded everyone gathered around the table. “With our swelling ranks, and the aid of the Eorzean Alliance and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, I believe we will soon be in a position to seize the initiative. Once our new recruits have received sufficient training, I will propose to General Aldynn that we draw up plans for an assault on Castellum Velodyna.”

M'Naago nodded, her smile a bit toothy. “In the meantime, we will make what preparations we can!”

The group broke up, everyone wandering off – though all of us Scions stuck together for a few minutes longer, wandering down to the water's edge in a knot of conversation.

“It's all happening so fast... Isn't it exciting!?” I heard Lyse saying behind me; Meffrid's voice answered her.

“Happening fast indeed. We won't have much time to train the new recruits, but we'll make the most of it. The Resistance will need every able-bodied man and woman in the field if we're going to take Velodyna.”

“How long, d'you think...?” and their voices faded as she went off with the dusky skinned soldier.

Alisaie was making conversation with the newly arrived Scions, and I half listened, until Alphinaud dropped back a bit to stand beside me.

I hooked my thumbs into my belt, to keep my hands to myself, and gave him a small smile. “I'm glad you found some folks who wanted to be here.”

“As am I,” he nodded. “Arenvald is not much older than I am. We would often chat about this and that whenever I paid a visit to the Waking Sands. I knew he had strong feelings about Ala Mhigo and the occupation, but it seems I underestimated his passion.”

“Oh, that's where I know him from.” I remembered now. He'd been among those Scions who had managed to flee when the Imperials had attacked the Sands...and I'd helped bury his two friends. A flicker of obscure guilt flashed through me, as Arenvald turned towards me.

The two Miqote seemed far more interested in exploring the area, and Alisaie wandered off with them; it was only the three of us now.

The blond man met my eyes squarely, and something in his gaze made me pause. The small talk I had been about to summon up died on my lips.

“It's been a long time, hasn't it? Since you were at the Sands, I mean.”

I nodded once, uncertain quite what to say. I had never made friends with everyone at the Sands, or even at the Rising Stones. I was never there long enough to really get to know any of them. I wondered – for the first time – if I had been wrong in that.

“No one could blame you for avoiding the place,” Arenvald said after a moment. “For a long time, I struggled to make sense of that day at the Waking Sands. Why I survived when A'aba and Aulie didn't. Not anymore.”

“And why is that?” I asked him.

“If things had turned out different, I wouldn't be here now. Wouldn't be coming back to the place where I grew up, with a chance to make life better for these folks. If I'd stayed with them – died with them – I would have died just another mercenary. Now?” He smiled. “Now, my death will _mean_ something.”

I regarded him, and he laughed a little. “Don't plan to die, of course,” he reassured me. “After all, I'll be fighting beside the Warrior of Light! We'll make a difference, I know it.”

Alphinaud nodded. “We will.”

Arenvald grinned at him, and then gave both of us a little bow. “I'm off to go see what needs doing around here. I can see there's plenty of work to be done.”

Alphinaud looked up at me. “Shall we offer our assistance as well? Or do you need some time to rest, first? I understand you did just get back from a journey.”

“I'm hardly going to be worn out from walking a few miles,” I chuckled. “I'll ask around, see what folks need done.”

“Excellent. I shall do the same.”

There was indeed, no shortage of work to be done. As the day wore on, even more willing hands came to join the efforts – Wiscar and more than a dozen other youths from the Peaks arrived in the afternoon. I was mildly astonished to see that more than half of them were girls – until I saw one of them working out against a dummy, demonstrating for the trainers what she already knew. The ferocity, the rage, in her blows made me recall how Wercrata had been worried for his sister, and what Meffrid had hinted at, when it came to the things the Imperials would do to the women folk.

I found myself near the waterfall, having carried some crates into the cavern they were using as a kind of warehouse, when I saw the blue haired Miqote again. She was struggling with a crate, and I put my hand underneath it, just before it tipped beyond her ability to keep hold of it.

“Hey,” I smiled. “Can I lend you a hand with that?”

“Oh...” Her eyes widened as she looked at me, and a flush rose in her cheeks. “I couldn't ask that you – ”

“You're not. I am.” I kept my smile in place. I could see now how patched her clothes were, and how sharply her cheekbones protruded. Her shoulders hunched and her eyes flickered to the side, as if checking if someone was going to fuss at her.

“You're Kalisti?” I asked, keeping my tone friendly, casual.

Her eyes flew back to mine and her ears pinned back. Her tail flicked twice and then tucked down. “I am...and you're...the...”

“My name is Berylla,” I said, “and I really don't mind helping you out. I wasn't doing anything else right now anyway.” I contrived to imitate Tataru's “puppy eyes” look. “If you'll let me, that is.”

Her mouth twitched and sudden humor replaced the worry in her gaze, and she hefted the crate a little, then let me take it from her. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“So, where are we taking this thing?” I asked her. The crate was in fact heavy, and I wondered why she'd been struggling to carry something like this.

“Half of it is for the new workshop,” she told me. “I'll show you.”

I followed her, and I didn't miss the occasional glances thrown our way. To say that people were astonished to see me helping this woman was putting it mildly. I had thought at first she was just another member of the Resistance but...these reactions...

It didn't take long to get to the “workshop,” which turned out to be more like a rough set of counters and benches, constructed out of odds and ends, with tools piled here and there. But the two people in charge of the area were very glad to see the crate in my arms. Kalisti helped them take things out of the box – ingots of fine metal, of all things, and I wondered just what sort of work was going to be done here.

As she had said, only half the contents were taken out, and Kalisti replaced the crate lid with care. We left, without me ever getting the names of the two folks bustling about arranging things.

Kalisti led me now back toward the waterfall, the other side of it from the supply cavern, where the mist and spray seemed to be nourishing quite a lush patch of grass and plants. It wasn't a garden – nothing so organized – but it was clearly well tended, and vigorous.

She walked past that patch of green and into a kind of notch in the rock – which, as it turned out, was more like a doorway, because the narrow opening made a hairpin turn and then opened out into a surprisingly spacious cave.

And a somewhat aromatic one. My nose wrinkled a bit at the pungent stench of goat dung.

Kalisti didn't seem to notice.

I took a look around, letting my eyes adjust to the lower light – in here there were a few lanterns but it was still much dimmer than the bright afternoon sun.

There was a corral of sorts – it wouldn't hold up to any determined effort at escape, but the goats inside the corral seemed utterly disinclined to even sniff the sticks and rope, instead contented to munch on the feed piled on one side. 

The little girl I'd seen before was shoveling muck into wide, shallow buckets. The pitchfork she was using was sized to her hands, but clearly a cobbled together thing. Still, she worked quickly and without complaint, and I could see that the corral was almost completely clean.

“Hara,” Kalisti called out softly.

“Yes, Mama?” The girl looked up from her task, and gasped a little when she saw me.

“It's all right, Hara. I see you're nearly done, finish up and we can wash.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Kalisti gestured to me, pointing to a spot against the cave wall. I set the crate down, and my ankles were almost immediately swarmed by kittens.

Kalisti made a small noise of dismay, but I laughed and went to one knee, letting the kittens investigate my fingers. I stayed like that while she and her daughter collected the buckets, but when it was time to carry them, I got up and walked over.

I eyed the shallow vessels, noting their oval shape, and nodded to myself. “Mind if I give you a hand again?”

“Oh...you don't have to,” but Kalisti stepped back, clearly all too grateful.

I stacked the buckets carefully and hefted them both. “Where to?”

“Just at the edge of the green,” she told me. “It will be collected from there.”

“Right.” I smiled a little. “Go and wash! I've got this.”

Not fifteen minutes later, the two of them were in front of me again. Before I could say anything, Hara's little face lit up and she ran past me towards someone else.

I turned, and then smiled hugely when I saw Nightbird approaching.

Hara tackled her, and she laughed a little as she hugged the girl in return. The two of them came back over to us, and the Keeper slanted a glance up at me. “I see you've introduced yourself.”

“Glad to see you here,” I answered. “And I see you already know these two.”

“Indeed,” and there was something in her voice that made me raise my eyebrows. But seeing how her ears flicked, I knew this wasn't the time to ask.

“I brought you a tent,” Nightbird told Kalisti. “I know it doesn't get very cold here, but the privacy ought to be an improvement.”

Kalisti was blushing again. “You – you've already been so kind...”

“Bollocks,” Nightbird said bluntly. “We already discussed this, Kalisti. Please don't forget again.”

The blue haired Miqote nodded, tears shining in her eyes.

Nightbird and Kalisti moved toward the cliff-wall, and I saw then the tiny camp – if a fire circle and a pair of ratty bedrolls could be called a camp. I frowned a little. Everyone else here had better. Just what was going on?

But I was distracted by a touch of tiny fingers on mine. I looked down and saw Hara staring up at me. She had blue-purple eyes, and her hair was a darker blue than her mother's, but they both had the same sweet face.

I knelt down, bringing myself a little closer to her eye level, and she put one finger to her mouth for a moment, shy.

“So you're Hara,” I said. “I'm Berylla. Are all those kittens yours?”

She giggled. “No, but I take care of them.”

“Oh? However did you come across so many?”

“They were in a bag,” she told me. “I heard them and I got them out.”

In a bag...oh. Oh. I held in my reaction. People were sometimes awful even in the best of circumstances.

So instead I let her ask me a few questions, until her mother came back over to us.

“It's time for us to eat and then rest,” Kalisti told her daughter, and Hara nodded once, then turned back to me.

“Thank you for helping us,” she said, and gave me a very quick hug around my neck.

Charmed, I grinned and ruffled her hair with the very tips of my fingers. “I was glad I could help,” I answered. “Rest well, Hara.”

Nightbird gestured to me, and I got up and followed her, leaving the two Miqote to their early dinner.

The sun was just sinking behind the cliffs – which meant actual sunset wasn't far off. Twilight came sooner to the Reach, but activity in the place continued, a steady rhythm that comfortably ignored the cycle of day and night.

Nightbird set her hand on my elbow and walked me almost all the way out of the valley, to a spot just before the sentry posts. Water flowed past our feet as she finally stopped and turned to face me. Her tail was lashing, and her ears were bent, down and back a bit.

“Okay, so what's got you upset?” I asked.

“It's clear you don't know about their situation,” she said, her voice a little tense. “So I'm going to tell you. But I want you to swear to me first that you won't go off in a rage after.”

I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms. “Is it that bad, that you think I would?”

“I know you,” she reminded me, “and I have no doubt this is going to make you angry. But I want you to promise not to try to act on that anger.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes a little. “I'm not going to go full on, froth-at-the-mouth berserk,” I told her, “but all right, I promise.”

“I've no doubt you haven't noticed, but most Miqote have two parts to their names.”

“Of course I know about that.” I frowned at her. “I've been friends with Y'Shtola for a long time, do you think I'm that much of an idiot?”

“You're so oblivious to other things sometimes...”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

“Well. You notice I do not have that sort of name. Neither does Kalisti or her daughter.”

“Different tribe?”

“No.” Her eyes were dark. “We have no tribe at all. Kalisti is like I was...a slave.”

Ice threaded down my back. “Oh.”

“I got the whole story out of her, and the others, while you were gone. She came here half-dead, a survivor of some battle or other – no one quite remembers which one. She was pregnant – obviously so – and papers found with her made it clear she had been deliberately bred. Then...Carteneau.”

“And she had nowhere to go? No one would help her, or?”

“From what she tells me, Hara was born the day before the Calamity. They weren't on the Flats, but they were dangerously close to the area. Other children, other babes-in-arms...died from the overload of aether.”

“Hara didn't. Lucky little girl.”

Nightbird bared her teeth. “Apparently most people disagree with that.”

“The fuck?”

“The two of them have drifted from place to place most of Hara's life. They've been here at the Reach for two years now, the longest they've been welcome anywhere.”

“Welcome...but...” I frowned. “But something's not right.”

“Indeed.” Nightbird sighed and put her fingers to her temples. “They do the most objectionable tasks in the camp. Collecting night-soil and goat dung...and for this, they are given just enough to live on, and are left alone.”

“The kittens?”

“Hara has a knack with animals. A truly unusual gift – I've seen her. Those goats are not one of the more docile breeds...and yet, did you see how quiet they are? That's Hara's doing.” She shrugged a little. “The kittens...well the story she told me at least is that she heard them calling for their mother.”

“What, in words? Cats don't talk.”

Nightbird gave me a withering look. “I know that. I don't know if the child was being fanciful or if she really believes that she heard words, or if she is speaking metaphorically and doesn't quite realize it. But her ability unnerves the rest of the people here.”

“What the fuck for? Being good with animals isn't weird.”

“I can't fathom it either. But that's the situation. If I had the means, I would remove the pair of them from this place entirely.”

“Remove them to where, though?”

“That's just the trouble, isn't it?” Nightbird sighed. “I can hardly ask Lord Fortemps to take them in, even if I could whisk myself and them away to Ishgard at such a time as this. And I can't simply bring them on as my assistants or the like.”

“I can see why you wanted me to promise, now.” I frowned deeply. “It's really tempting to go apply my fist to someone's face and persuade them to do better.”

“And yet – there is this to consider. These folk have so little as it is. I'm not sure they actually can stretch their resources further than they have. Or, if we were to try to force the issue, would they instead drive Kalisti off?”

“Ugh.” I shook my head. “So they're better off where they are?”

“For now. I have my eye on them, however.” Her lips tightened with determination. “And I will see that they get what comforts I can bring them.”

“I'll watch over them too, when I'm here anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you staying the night? I'm told there's a lot of work to be done soon.”

“Yes, in the morning I'll be helping work with the infirmary folk. Expanding the facilities and training some new recruits.”

“Then I guess we should grab some food too, huh?”

“Always thinking with your stomach,” she grinned. “Yes, let's get some dinner.”


	81. A Time to Wait

I spent the morning setting up more training dummies, and doing what little I could to help with initial assessments of the recruits. I was a rotten teacher, but I did at least know how to spar with someone in a way that let them use their abilities. It helped that I was more than experienced enough to keep myself out of trouble even against such amateurs – the half-trained or untrained could be more dangerous than a skilled opponent, simply because they were totally unpredictable and would sometimes try foolish things. The morning went by with nothing worse than my handing out plenty of bruises, and the Ananta in charge of the training was most pleased with my contribution.

After that, I found my way over to the cook-pot. The camp cook, Ahelissa, glanced up at me and smiled. I smiled back, and cocked my head. “Anything I can help with? I'm pretty good at camp cooking.”

Her eyes warmed and her smile widened. “Oh, someone who knows how to do something with food other than devour it, what a relief.”

I laughed. “I can well imagine. So, what's in the soup?”

“Don't ask,” she laughed in return. “But if you've a bit of time right now, I could use some herbs...?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Oh just...six sprigs of whatever the quartermaster can spare me.”

“I'll be back in a few, then.”

But the quartermaster had two sprigs, not six. “The remainder you'll have to gather yourself,” he told me, not unkindly. “Shouldn't be too much of a bother, though─you'd be surprised what you can find growing underfoot, even in the Reach.” His eyes crinkled as he grinned.

I smiled back and took myself back out into the main valley. There wasn't exactly a verdant bounty here...my eye lit on a wisp of green at the base of a scrubby tree. Investigating more closely, I realized it was a wild variety of dill. Well, an herb is an herb.

It took me almost an hour to scour the Reach for random wild herbs – it was as if someone had deliberately spread seeds all over and just hoped that something would take. And more than half of what I found was more useful as medicine than for soup.

But when I trotted back over to Ahelissa, she was pleased to see me. “Those will do nicely!” Then, she ducked her head just a bit. “Sorry to impose on you, by the way. I didn't realize you weren't just a new recruit...”

I laughed. “I volunteered, you weren't imposing. And to be honest I'm just as glad to be treated as a regular person for once!”

When she looked back up at me, her smile was relieved.

“So what else do you need?” I asked.

“Oh, everything, as usual.” She shrugged a little as she crushed up the herbs and added them into the soup. “It's always like this. Never enough food and supplies to go around. All the more reason to be grateful when our countrymen can spare some for the cause.” She sighed. “Though that comes at a cost, too...”

I nodded. “All the villages are on the edge of starvation already, aren't they?”

“Aye. But a man can't fight on an empty stomach. So, we partake as we must.” Her mouth firmed. “And we never lose sight of the dream.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “Well. I can spare some time to the cause, and I'm not bad at hunting. Do those huge, ugly birds out there make decent eating?”

She smiled.

The days passed like molasses. I didn't mind helping – killing gagana made the paths safer out in the Fringes as well as providing plenty of meat and other useful things. The Imperials seemed to be dragging their feet. I heard about patrols and ambushes, but it was all minor skirmishes, barely enough to warrant being called action at all.

I was  _ bored _ .

Two days after returning from the Peaks – not quite a week after leaving Ishgard – I finally used the link-pearl that Aymeric had given me.

I was at Castrum Oriens for the evening – at loose ends until dawn, and probably another morning spent hunting and gathering. There were many towers in the place – but the inner ones, nearer to the Gridanian side, weren't manned except at night. They made for a good, quiet place to be alone.

I climbed one of them, and sat with my legs dangling off the platform, and then took the link-pearl out of my pouch and regarded it for a moment.

The sun was just beginning to set over the Shroud, painting the washed-out landscape to the east with scarlet and gold. Vivid shadows leaped, making the layered hills seem taller, the canyons deeper.

Everyone else was at the Reach tonight – no one would come looking for me. The night watch would come only after the sun was fully below the horizon...I had a little time.

But I still hesitated, as I had done the past two nights. My stomach trembled, my hands felt clammy. _It's just talking, damn it. I wasn't this nervous before having dinner with him. Get your shit together, Berylla_.

I set the device in my ear and thumbed it on. It only chimed once.

“Berylla.” My skin prickled all over at the sound of his voice, velvet and warm.

“Hi,” I managed. “I didn't lose it right away after all.”

He laughed. “I had faith in you. Are you well?”

“Well enough, I guess.” I chewed my bottom lip a little. “We're waiting.” A thought occurred to me. “Are you still working?”

“I wouldn't have answered if I were, sweetheart.”

My eyes stung. “Right, of course.” I rested my forehead on the cold metal of the railing, and let the words tumble out.

“Gods, I miss you, Aymeric. I hate this place, I don't know what good I'm even doing here, everything's going _so fucking slowly_ and...” I gulped in a breath and forced myself to shut up. “Sorry,” I whispered.

“Shh, it's all right. I told you, did I not, that I would listen? Say whatever you need to say, my dear warrior.”

I sniffled. “I'm just feeling whiny. And homesick. And bored as hell.”

“You have ever preferred the direct route, taking action over talking,” he chuckled. “You know as well as I do, soon enough the talking will be done, and your axe will once more be required.”

“They won't even let me in the kitchen,” I grumbled. I could hear him grinning. “Stop laughing at me, you.”

“Did I laugh?” he answered innocently. I could just see him, the way his eyes danced with humor when he teased me, and finally I felt able to smile a little.

I started to say something, but a noise on his end of the line interrupted.

“ _Mrrrow! Myeh!_ ”

“What the?”

His voice was distracted. “The cat has decided to join me on the bed.”

“You...have a cat now?”

There was a pause. “I've owned her for quite some time.”

“I lived in your house for a week and I never saw a cat!”

He chuckled even as he answered. “I suppose she haunted the third floor whenever you visited. It never occurred to me to discuss her. We were otherwise occupied, after all.”

“So, what, your cat doesn't like people, or just me?” I asked, nettled. Animals usually liked me just fine, even the tavern cats who so often had no use for people would come by and give me a friendly sniff. Even Hara's tumble of kittens had liked me. There had been nothing to indicate any sort of pets in Aymeric's house.

“She's just very shy,” Aymeric soothed. “For many months, she avoided Haurchefant too. And Estinien, but then again...”

“Anyone with sense avoids Estinien.” My laugh was mostly breath. “I don't see how Nightbird puts up with him.”

“He has redeeming qualities,” Aymeric answered, his tone mild. “Though he is not much here nowadays.”

I hummed a little. “What are you doing right now?” I asked, my voice going soft. “Were you about to get to sleep?”

“Just thinking,” he said. “I have letters waiting for me. They can continue to wait. I would much rather talk with you.”

“I don't have much else to say...” I rubbed at my eyes gently. “You're getting reports on all the stuff we're doing – or not doing – here. And I don't want to talk about that, anyway.”

“Well then,” and once more I could hear him smiling, “talk about anything else. The weather, for instance.”

“The weather?” I couldn't help but laugh a little. “It's hot. Dry, too. Though...the sunsets are fairly spectacular. I like the nights better.”

“Oh?”

“It's cooler, and it's quieter. The dust settles and the air just feels cleaner at night.” I tilted my head back. “And I can see the stars, at least from here in the castrum. They seem huge, for some reason. It's nice, but it's nothing like as pleasant as the Mists, not as safe either.”

Humor threaded his answer. “To think that you consider the Churning Mists safe, when the place is overrun with dragons.”

“ _Most_ of them are no longer interested in mauling travelers,” I shrugged. “But it's not so much that the Mists are safe, just that they're less dangerous than here on the fringes.”

“Fair point.” I heard the cat again, and Aymeric muttered. “Yes, all right, there. Calm down, you tyrant.”

“What is she doing?”

“Demanding to lay on me, as usual.” There was a small “oof” sort of noise. “Blancmange, that is my spleen.”

“Blancmange?” My voice trembled with laughter. “You've had her how long?”

“Seven years now.” There was a pause and I heard him moving. “There, now.” He was talking to the cat again. “Be warm, be still.”

“ _Myeh, mrr_ ,” I heard clearly, and he laughed again.

“Other than being a bed for your cat,” I said, “how has your day been?”

“Much the same as any other,” he sighed. “Meetings, mediating arguments between the stubborn and the arrogant, reading over drafts. I am able to take time to exercise again, at least. I was getting woefully out of trim.”

“I'm betting you're also taking out some stress on the dummies.”

“Naturally. At least things are beginning to run more smoothly. Even the most obstinate of the lords have accepted that this is the way things are now. I keep reminding myself that their grandsons are already adapting, and in another generation, children will honestly not understand why the old guard was so reluctant to change.”

“A long time from now, though.”

“Yes. But I knew from the first that this would be no short term project.”

“Have they settled the – what did you call it, term limit?”

“For those sitting in the Houses, yes.”

I frowned. “But not for you? Not for the Speaker?”

“Most of them are still in the habit of thinking in terms of arch-bishops,” he reminded me. “It will take time to persuade them otherwise.”

“Well...” I searched for something else to say than what I _really_ thought about the Houses. “If anyone can persuade them, it's you, Aymeric.”

“I suspect young Alphinaud might have the skill as well by now.”

“Maybe the skill, but not the standing. They'd still only see a child. They don't know him. They know you.” My voice hitched a little. “They trust you.”

“I know.” His voice held a weight, a weariness, that made my heart hurt. “I shan't squander that trust. I shan't leave them while they still need me.”

“Don't...” _Don't let their need kill you_ , I wanted to say.

“Hm?”

“Don't forget to take care of yourself. I don't want to come home to find you've been sleeping in your chair every night or something.”

He laughed, a gentle laugh, like a caress. “As my lady commands.”

I heard voices below, and glanced down. “The watch is changing,” I said. “My private spot is about to not be private anymore.”

“Then I shall bid you good night, dear warrior.”

“Good night,” I murmured. The connection closed.

I put the link-pearl back in my pouch and got up, making my way down from the tower and walking back towards the mess hall and barracks. The words we _hadn't_ said lingered in my mind as I ate without tasting the stew and lay down on a cot in the barracks.

I wasn't about to say  _ those _ words for the first time over a damned link-pearl. I wanted to be face to face with him when I said it.

One week. Another. The days bled together. Tension grew, slowly but inevitably. More and more, veteran soldiers and recruits alike wondered what in the seven hells the Empire was waiting for. We had humiliated them in one skirmish, we kept harassing their patrols, even if we were not thus far gaining new ground. Their only response seemed to be to send out fewer patrols...and it made everyone nervous. This was not what _any_ of us had expected.

Even the best information our spies could tease out indicated very little. There were messengers going back and forth – but all of them were in the little one-man flying machines, the sky-armor as they were called. We had no way to shoot down one of those reliably. And yet still, _nothing_.

Not even Aymeric had any idea what this waiting meant, though I tried to avoid talking about it too much during the too-short calls I made to him. They were the only thing I looked forward to in a day, and I forced myself to only call him once every three days, so I wouldn't annoy him.

I hadn't seen Alphinaud in days – though Kemp assured me he was fine when I finally asked. But the commander wouldn't tell me just what special task he'd sent Alphinaud off to deal with, either. I wanted to growl, but made myself simply nod and drop the subject.

After dinner, I sat and drank ale with Meffrid, having probably one too many. But hopefully, it would insure that when I did fall into my bedroll, I would pass out almost immediately.

All of the girls among the Scions had one tent to share – a large one, to be sure, and at no time were all of us in the Reach at the same time, so it wasn't crowded. This time, it was just me and Alisaie. Coming in, I made sure to be as quiet as I could, since she was already asleep. She was splitting her days drilling recruits and going out on patrols, and while she was definitely not bored, she had looked awfully tired at dinner.

The ale did just as I had hoped. I was asleep so fast I didn't even turn over once.

I was on my hands and knees. Blood spattered the sand beneath me. Cold washed across me, twisting in my guts. Shaking, I raised my head.

White hair, and a stain, a pool of blood, soaking into the sand slowly.

“No...”

Crawling forward through sand flooding with red, damp with it, _so much blood_ – more than belonged in any one body.

Beyond the too-still figure with white hair, others strewn across the ground – uniforms stained and shredded. I smelled machine oil, and heard in the distance the rhythmic thumping of cerulean engines and the strange whine of sky armor. The sky was black with smoke, red with flame.

 _They're all dead_.

“Why do you persist? _You have failed_. For all your vaunted strength, you are a mere mortal after all. You could never do anything else.”

“No,” I sobbed. My hand reached for the body in front of me.

A blade appeared in my line of sight. I couldn't see the figure who wielded it – there was only darkness, closing in, and the shining merciless steel that dove downward. I flung myself in the path of the blade.

“ _No!_ ”

I sat up with a gasp, heart pounding, bile rising in my throat. The tent was pitch-black, but I could hear breathing, not far from me. Alisaie, asleep. The night was quiet.

 _A dream. Please, gods, let it be just a dream_.

I forced myself to lay down, staring up into blackness. Forced my breaths into a slower rhythm, forced my tears to remain silent.

The figure beside me shifted. Cool fingers brushed across mine. Instinct and need curled my fingers around hers, and she let me cling to her hand. She didn't speak. Neither did I.

Morning came, with a red dawn in the sky. “Rain is coming,” Ahelissa commented as she gave me a mug of tea. “That'll be good.”

Alphinaud was in the command area when I showed up.

“Hi,” I said. No one else was around yet, given how early it was. I had to force myself not to wrap him in a hug. Especially after the nightmare...

But he had made it clear, and I had agreed – we both needed to just wait.

“You look terrible,” he said.

“I'm fine.”

“She was yelling in her sleep,” said Alisaie from behind me.

I started, and grimaced at her. “You didn't have to _say_ anything.”

“You woke me up.” She shrugged.

Alphinaud's hand touched my arm. “A nightmare,” he asked, “or a vision?”

“Gods.” I ducked my head. “Gods, I _hope_ not a vision. It was...” I pressed my lips together tightly, forcing back the sight of white hair streaked with blood. “It was pretty rough.”

“Vision?” Alisaie asked, and I let Alphinaud answer. His explanation made more sense than mine, anyway.

She frowned. “Do all who bear the Echo have such visions?”

“You'd be better off asking Krile,” I shrugged. “Or maybe Nightbird, she has it too. Both of them know more about it than I do, for certain.”

“Huh.”

Before she could say more, Kemp came striding up to the table. “Good morning. We're finally going to be able to make a move against the Garleans.”

That got our attention instantly. He smiled thinly. “I'll explain when the rest get here.”


	82. Velodyna

Everyone had finally arrived. As she moved to her place beside Kemp, M'Naago clapped me on the shoulder with a big grin. She was pleased with me in particular because of all the hunting I'd done – apparently in her tribe, that was a big deal of some sort. Alphinaud cocked his head at me. “I heard you've been keeping busy.”

“She has,” M'Naago answered. “Our stomachs thank her for it, too.”

I shook my head, laughing a little.

Kemp rapped his knuckles on the table. “It pleases me to inform you that our new recruits have completed their initial training and stand ready to contribute.” He turned his head. “As discussed, M'Naago, I would have you present my proposal for an assault on Castellum Velodyna to General Aldynn personally.”

“Of course, sir!”

“I would have most of you make ready,” Kemp said, scanning the group. “Once the General and I have agreed on the plan, there will be much to do.”

There were nods all around and a couple of salutes, and most everyone scattered. Not having anything specific to do myself, I stayed put – and so did Alphinaud and Alisaie.

M'Naago looked at me, eagerness in every line of her. “Are you and yours going back to Castrum Oriens before the operation? If so, why don't we travel together?”

I grinned, but Alphinaud spoke before I could.

“That seems a fine suggestion, but I must consult my comrades ere we depart.”

She nodded. “I'll wait for you at the pass.” Her ears wiggled. “But not too long!”

Lyse came back out from the tent she had ducked into, and joined the three of us just as we began to walk. As we made our way toward the infirmary, Alisaie said, “Why exactly are we consulting Y'Shtola and Krile?”

“I expect they will wish to remain,” Alphinaud said, “but nevertheless, we should go and ask them.”

“Ah, and it couldn't at all be any other reason,” Lyse drawled.

I turned my head to glower at her, and she smirked.

Alphinaud, not seeing my expression, merely ignored her.

We walked in, to find Y'Shtola cleaning up an area while Krile made sure the patient – freshly stitched up, it seemed – actually went to lie down instead of trying to get back to whatever it was he'd been doing.

She looked up at us and her brow creased. “Hm?”

“We're finally doing something,” I said. Alphinaud gave me a mildly annoyed look, and I shrugged at him.

He cleared his throat, and spoke. “This joint operation marks a turning point in our conflict with the Garleans. For the first time, the Resistance and the Alliance shall go on the offensive and attempt to capture an Imperial outpost in occupied territory. Personally, I believe it is imperative that we offer them our full support. As was the case with Ishgard, however, this is not a choice to be made lightly, nor less on others' behalves. This is war, and every Scion must decide what part he or she would play.”

Krile nodded, but Y'Shtola folded her arms across her chest, her tail swishing and one ear down. “Ah yes, asking everyone's opinion before making a critical decision. Truly, this is a far better arrangement than having centralized leadership.” Alphinaud's ears went pink, but only for a second.

Lyse spread her hands. “I'll fight. For Ala Mhigo, for my father, for Yda. I'm in it to the end.”

Alisaie, one hand on her hip, spoke up next. Her tone was a bit impatient. “The choice was made for us ere we were born, Brother, when the Empire marched on Eorzea.” Her mouth tightened. “They will stop at nothing to subjugate or slaughter us all. Van Baelsar and van Darnus were but the first to try.”

Alphinaud's brows came together for a moment. “Though your fervor is surprising, I cannot dispute your logic.” His sister rolled her eyes as he continued. “At the risk of repeating myself, I am of course of the same mind. The present situation is untenable, and further complicated by the existence of Ilberd's primal. I believe we have no recourse but to directly and openly intervene.”

Y'Shtola's tail lashed one final time. “I thought this a foregone conclusion given our actions thus far, but if you require renewed affirmation, then yes, I am still wholly committed to this cause. For it is ultimately the selfsame cause I have served since first I pledged to serve Master Louisoix and the Circle of Knowing: the salvation of Eorzea, by any means necessary. That said,” she unfolded her arms and turned back to what she'd been doing, “I shall refrain from taking the field on this occasion. There are many here who require further treatment, and doubtless more to come after.”

Krile nodded agreement. “I came here for Minfilia, and that hasn't changed. However, I'd like to stay with Y'Shtola for now and tend to the wounded.”

Alphinaud nodded in acceptance, and turned to look at me.

“As for you, Berylla...you are, to quote our dear friend Lord Edmont, the woman who bested two Imperial legatuses and some half-dozen primals besides. Your presence may well prove the difference between victory and defeat. Many look to you as a hero, and heap great expectations upon your shoulders. But you, like every Scion, must decide for yourself.”

I regarded him. He was deadly serious about this. Why? Was he so very concerned that we would regret choosing to take part in this war? Did he perhaps think we were already having second thoughts?

But I had already known what I would say. “I'm fighting. We must carry on. For those we have lost,” and I saw his eyes go dark at those words. “For those we can yet save.”

“Well said,” he replied, though there was a hitch in his voice. “Well said, indeed.”

We stepped back out into the main part of the valley, and Alisaie turned to Lyse. “I would ask that you remain here,” she said, “by Conrad's side. It should facilitate communication at the very least.”

Lyse nodded. “Of course.”

The two of them headed off – Lyse towards the command area and Alisaie toward the entrance; but Alphinaud paused, and turned to face me.

“Might I persuade you to join us, Berylla?” He shifted his weight a little, and looked down. “I am sure I can convince M'Naago to wait a little longer, if you need to think about it.”

I waited until he looked up again to smile. “I don't need to think about it. Let's go.”

The smile I got in answer made me feel warm all over.

We made excellent time on the path to the castrum, and were there not even a full hour after sunrise. Raubahn looked at the lot of us with a small smile on his face. I was willing to bet he knew why we were here, but he stuck to protocol. “Welcome back. What news?”

M'Naago had gotten a lot more comfortable with the General over the past weeks, and now had no more trouble reporting to him than she did to Conrad.

“Greetings, General. I am come at Commander Kemp's behest to brief you on the latest developments at the Reach. Our recruitment efforts have exceeded expectations. In addition to welcoming many motivated young Ala Mhigans, our ranks have been bolstered by the arrival of a number of experienced veterans, thanks in large part to the efforts of the Scions. As a consequence, we are now able to field half a dozen new units, with more being trained as we speak.”

“Good.” Raubahn nodded. “I gather Conrad is eager to strike while the iron is hot?”

“Just so, General. He proposes that we begin preparations for a joint operation to capture Castellum Velodyna.”

Pipin raised his eyebrows. “Capture Velodyna? That won't be easy.” He pondered. “But it will be necessary if we are to push east toward the capital.”

Raubahn nodded. “There is no profit in delay.” His eyes glinted as he glanced at me, and I knew he'd gotten wind of my bitching about all the waiting. I only hoped I wasn't blushing too hard.

“It is only a matter of time before the Garleans learn of our plans and summon reinforcements,” the General continued. “The Alliance hereby accepts Commander Kemp's proposal. Tell him to take no chances─bring every able-bodied Ala Mhigan who can wield a weapon.” M'Naago nodded and left immediately to contact Kemp. Raubahn turned to the Marshal. “Pipin─I want Velodyna watched. Assess its defenses. Every fortress has a weakness, and I would know this one's.”

Pipin saluted, his gray eyes bright with anticipation.

Alisaie piped up. “If there is no objection, General, might the Scions join Marshal Tarupin?”

Raubahn raised his eyebrows at her, and Alphinaud gave her a sideways glance. But the General nodded. “By all means.” Then he stepped back from the table. “If that is all – let us be about it!”

Pipin came around the table and gathered the three of us up, taking us to a quieter corner, out of the way of the sudden bustle of soldiers. “I've a mind to reconnoiter tonight,” he said, “in person. If you would care to accompany me?”

I nodded. “Sounds fine. Though, haven't we been scouting the place out all this time?”

“Among other places,” he smiled tolerantly. “But having one's own eyes on a target is never a bad idea.” He nodded to us all. “I'll meet you at the gate just at sunset. Whatever tasks you may need to accomplish, finish them before then.”

“Until this evening,” I said with a little bow, and he was off.

Alphinaud eyed his sister. “What prompted you to volunteer us, sister?”

She eyed him right back. “At least if we accompany the Marshal,” she answered tartly, “we'll get word about proceedings sooner than if we wait on you.”

He sniffed once. “You know full well I cannot simply gossip to you about sensitive intelligence. The dissemination of such information is up to the commanders, not me.”

“Oh is that where you were?”

He looked up at me in actual surprise. “What, you didn't guess?”

“Alphinaud,” I said, sweetly, “when have I ever _guessed?_ Correctly, at least.”

He flushed a little, and shrugged. “I need to go check in with some of my people,” he muttered, and hurried off.

Alisaie snickered. Then, she sighed, and leaned against the castrum wall, looking pensive. “Conrad and the General are of one mind, it seems... I only wish I could say the same. While this aggressive strategy may well profit us in the end, what losses will we suffer in the meantime?”

I leaned beside her. “It's a war.” I let out a sigh of my own. “We're going to lose people, and a lot of them, most likely. Hopefully, we can manage this with the least losses possible – but that will never mean no losses at all.” I grimaced. “Forgive me for sounding incredibly selfish, but so long as I don't lose the people I care about most...”

She looked at me. “Like my brother?”

“Like _you_ ,” I retorted. “And yes, him too. People I care about and who care about me. Not about what I can do for them.”

Her mouth opened, and her cheeks went pink. “Berylla, I...I hope you don't think I would ever...”

“I know better than that, yes.” I pushed off from the wall. “I'm going to take a walk around the place,” I told her. “I'll be back in a little while.”

It felt good to be out in the night air. The wind that blew past us carried a hint of river scent – not surprising given the waterfall only a few hundred yards behind our position. We had an excellent view of the castellum from here. Pipin was kneeling, peering through a spy-glass; the rest of us were standing, keeping watch.

I cocked my head at Alphinaud. “So it's not a castrum?”

He shook his head, keeping his voice low, just as I had done. “A castellum is less a military installation and more a supply depot─a storage and distribution facility for the surrounding area. That being the case, taking it will not only earn us a strategic foothold, but deprive our enemy of valuable resources.”

Pipin eased back on his heels for a moment and turned his head. “This should be a fairly straightforward reconnaissance mission, so long as we do not have the ill fortune to run afoul of an Imperial patrol. We simply settle in for a long watch.”

Alisaie nodded. “Naught appears out of the ordinary at a glance, so far.”

Pipin grinned at her a little. “Let us hope for boredom, then.”

He turned back, and Alphinaud paced for a moment, before coming to stand beside me again. He crossed his arms. “Even should they be unaware of our plans, I would be surprised if their western defenses were not heavily fortified, given the presence of Allied forces at the Wall.” I could tell by his tone that he was just thinking out loud at this point. Not that I minded. The only other sounds were the rush of the waterfall and a few crickets.

It was dark, making it very easy to spot the castellum with all its lit windows. If the ground had not been so pale, it might have been difficult for us to walk about, but the starlight was just sufficient, now that our eyes had adjusted. In the timid shadow of the large boulder that provided us some of our cover, the blackness was total.

“Ah, excellent,” Pipin said at length. “The disposition of the Imperial troops is exactly as expected. I will notify Father.”

I was about to speak, when the quiet of the night was destroyed by the sudden boom of explosions.

Pipin shot to his feet, his head turning, scanning the horizon. Alisaie turned toward the river chasm, and I cast my own eyes towards our back-trail, in the direction of Castrum Oriens.

Alisaie called out. “Smoke! There! Is that – ” Even as I turned, her voice dropped to a shocked whisper. “Oh gods. It's Rhalgr's Reach.”

I stared at the crimson glow emanating from the hills, like some kind of fiery maw. She was right. My heart began to pound. _Oh gods. There's almost no one there now – every able-bodied warrior is already gathering at Oriens. It's only wounded and civilians and a handful of guards – they're defenseless!_

Alphinaud made a noise of dismay, and I glanced at him to see him grimacing, his fingers on his link-pearl. “No use,” he muttered, and looked to Pipin. “I think someone's jamming our communications.”

Alisaie pivoted to face her brother. “You don't think – could this be part of a coordinated attack?”

Pipin spoke, his voice calm, though his eyes were wide behind his helm. “Too early to draw conclusions. We must abort the assault and return to the Reach at once.”

I took off running, leaving all of them yards behind me.

The dark night and the rough terrain forced me to slow down after I had crossed the smaller bridge behind the ruined castrum. The others caught up to me, panting a bit, but before any of us could say anything, we all caught sight of figures coming our way, moving slowly. Limping.

I slowed further, then stopped, seeing Resistance uniforms – and Arenvald. He was supporting M'Naago, almost carrying her. The feisty Miqote was weeping softly.

Alphinaud came to a stop beside me, his eyes scanning the group. “Krile!”

The Lalafellin woman paused, then smiled weakly. “Alphinaud.”

The wounded all stopped, most of them sitting right down in the dirt to rest.

“We saw the smoke and thought we heard explosions,” Alphinaud said. “Are we under attack?” His tone was urgent but not panicked, and I tried to take heart from that. We didn't know what was happening, but between Pipin and Alphinaud surely we could...do...something.

Krile looked at the ground, more distressed than I had ever seen her. “The Imperials were all over us before we realized what was happening. No one knew where to run or what to do – it was chaos. Lyse and Master Kemp rallied the guards, and bought us enough time to get some of the wounded to safety...” She glanced back over her shoulder, and frowned more deeply. “But I haven't seen either of them since.”

Pipin muttered a curse under his breath, and then, louder, “Confound it! If we lose the Reach, this will have all been for naught!”

Alphinaud's voice was firm. “Arenvald, can you escort these people to the Wall?”

Arenvald looked up. His voice was quiet, but firm. “Aye, sir.”

Alphinaud nodded once, and looked at me. “Our place is at the Reach. We must offer such aid and succor as we are able.” Something in his voice told me he saw how enraged I was. “Saving lives is now our paramount concern,” he told me, his tone almost stern. _Saving lives, not getting revenge_ , his eyes added.

I flexed my hands, the knuckles cracking a little, but I nodded once. _I hear you_.

“If we can hold back the Imperials until Father sends reinforcements,” Pipin said, “we may yet turn the tide.”

 _Assuming that reinforcements won't even start to make their way here until Arenvald reaches the Wall?_ I wanted to snarl but I kept my face still. _We're on our own for at least an hour_.

Krile straightened, her eyes taking on a more spirited look. “I'll join you,” she said. Alphinaud started to look at her, as if to object. “I've done all I can for these people, and you'll need a healer in there.”

He shut his mouth and then nodded. “I fear you're right. Come, there is no time to lose!”

I didn't need to be told twice. Once more I shot ahead of them all.


	83. Awash in Crimson

The Reach seemed awash in crimson.

Blood spattered the stones, and fires seemed to be everywhere. The lurid light reflected off the cliff walls. Thunder had begun to boom through the sky, and flashes of lightning lit everything in merciless white at unpredictable intervals.

Alisaie was right beside me – most of the time, given her leaping style – stabbing and casting, snarling and cursing. Alphinaud's voice rang out again and again as he cast his nastiest spells, and his obsidian carbuncle growled and spit as it tore into the enemies that stood in our way.

Most of those enemies were taken by surprise at first, their attention more on the helpless people they were victimizing. A signifer laughed viciously as he kicked a man who was already face down in the dirt, and my axe sang through the air to clout the Imperial in the chest, sending him flying against a broken pillar, where Alisaie's aetherial rapier finished him.

Broken cries echoed across the valley, and we moved on – Krile lagging behind just long enough to insure the wounded wouldn't bleed out immediately.

Reapers and more Imperial soldiers were rampaging across the stream, and the sutlers' tents were all ablaze. I smashed faces and armor alike, mowing through them, leaving blood and screams in my wake – screams that ended when the carbuncle, or Alisaie, or Pipin, got to them. I didn't wait, even when Alphinaud shouted a warning to me.

I reached the sutlers' tents, and to my astonishment there were strange beings there – walking on two legs like men, but with the heads and fur of wolves. But they wielded weapons and they were clearly attacking the Resistance people. After that single moment of surprise, they became my targets.

Engaged with two of them – swinging elegantly curved swords in a fluid dance of moves I'd never seen in my life – I heard an arrow sing past my shoulder.

“Oh no you don't!” Alisaie screamed, and I felt as much as heard her fire-spell explode against something's face. A gargled scream, and then the meaty sound of her rapier biting deep – and I knew she had felled whatever fool had tried to shoot me in the back.

Alphinaud's carbuncle dodged past me, and tackled the swordsman on my right, latching onto his leg, gnawing at the tendon of his knee. He howled – literally – and went down, and my axe crashed into his neck. Blood sprayed, hissing as it hit the flames on the tent nearby.

The second swordsman staggered back a pace, eyes going wide, and Alisaie rocketed past me, shoulder tackling him and leaving his sword arm hanging useless at his side, blood flowing freely down the strange armor he wore. I raised my axe, but Alphinaud's spell was faster, and the wolf-man crashed to the ground with a groan, bitter smelling dark magic writhing around his head.

“Those _monsters_ ,” Alisaie snarled, casting her glance around the area. “These people had surrendered!”

She was right. The bodies near us were almost all of them civilians, and were sprawled in attitudes that made it clear they'd been on their knees when they were struck down. Blood was everywhere, and my stomach flipped at the sheer viciousness on display in the strikes used to murder the helpless.

Ahelissa staggered from behind a tent, holding her arm. “They took them,” she said to me, in a broken voice. “Took Lyse and Conrad and...you have to find them...!”

I strode towards the command area, the one spot where I could still see people moving about.

My eyes saw Lyse first – her hands tied behind her back, head down, rage in every line of her.

And then I saw Y'Shtola, lying much too still just a foot or so away.

Krile and Alphinaud ran past me, sprinting towards Lyse. They skidded to a stop and both of them went to their knees – Krile beside Y'Shtola, and Alphinaud beside the third figure that I hadn't noticed until now: Kemp.

I hadn't had many occasions to be looking at someone else getting healed. When it was my own injuries being treated, I didn't look – either I closed my eyes or I kept my attention on anything but the wound. But even from my position nearly three yards away I could see the silver-white glow, shot through with rays of blue and occasional flickers of green.

A trio of masked Skulls leaped towards them, and I rushed them with a shout.

I bowled the three men over, but they scrambled back up, fast as ferrets, and laid into me.

One of them was a mage of some sort – he made a gesture as if flicking a dagger at me, but instead of a metal weapon a dagger of fire soared through the air and struck my arm. I hissed in pain, but I had all I could do to defend myself against the other two. Their curved swords swooped in, and I danced back to avoid being gutted. It was clear these two had trained to fight together. An ordinary warrior would have been hard pressed to handle such teamwork, and I heard the confidence in their voices as they laughed and advanced

They had trained to overwhelm their foe; but they had never trained to fight someone like me.

I summoned up my own aether, and slammed my leading foot into the ground. Concussive force made the sand fly up as the magic raced toward them, knocking against them, forcing them to focus on keeping their feet. Rage burned along my veins and I whirled, the head of my axe blurring as I spun the weapon in a vicious pattern.

They fell, blood spraying from their bellies and their throats, swords clanging to the ground.

Alisaie, and Alphinaud's carbuncle, had ganged up on the remaining Skull, and he went down with a shriek, the carbuncle growling as it tore out his throat.

“Scum!”

I batted aside the sword that came at me from the side, my reflex saving my life.

The orange haired woman that I'd seen back in the Peaks spun gracefully, her failed strike seeming to trouble her not at all. Her lips peeled back from her teeth in a snarl, and I felt my own mouth twisting in an answering grimace.

She charged into me, bringing her sword up in a strike meant to gut me. But her charge was spoiled first by Pipin, slamming into her from the side, and then further tangled by the carbuncle that chomped her ankle, trying to gnaw through her hamstring.

She barely managed to block me as I swung for her, rolling desperately away from us all.

“My lord!” she yelled. “The prisoners!”

A man appeared out of the smoke, stalking our way, and the orange haired woman stepped back another pace from us.

He moved with all the languid threat of a pacing tiger. His armor looked like some kind of amalgam of Garlean standard issue and savage finery. He was huge – head and shoulders taller than even the tallest Roegadyn men I knew. He carried a strange looking cylinder on his hip, with three hilts protruding from it.

A horned helm – not unlike the mask once worn by Gaius van Baelsar – covered his face, but golden hair streamed out from the beneath that frightful visage.

The voice that spoke from behind the mask held all the polite charm of a nobleman at a garden party.

“Your friends were a disappointment,” he told me. “But you...” His voice became a caress. “You will entertain me, will you not?”

I contained the sudden shiver of fear his tone struck in me. _How dare he sound so...so friendly? As if he's happy to see me? What kind of sick game is he playing?_

Alisaie and Pipin stepped up beside me, and the armored man lifted his sword and stepped forward.

“I do not need this rabble,” he said, his voice no longer friendly but still eerily calm. He gestured with his sword – and lightning raced along the ground, flinging sand up, and then flinging all of us back. I managed to keep my feet, but Pipin and Alisaie both were face down in the dirt, moaning in pain.

I charged, axe swinging.

“Pathetic.”

I heard his footsteps in the sand, walking away. He had never once raised his voice. He had never seemed upset or even mildly concerned, not by the worst I could throw at him. And he had struck me down like a pest – with a single blow. Sand was in my mouth, stuck to my face, in my hair. I couldn't be sure whether the wetness on my face was blood or tears.

I levered myself up to my hands and knees, and gasped as pain racked me. _Everything hurts. Crashing the manacutter into the moogle garden didn't hurt this much. Oh gods...I think I might sick up._

Feet, running towards me – two pairs – _who?_ I struggled to raise my head, but when I felt her hand on my shoulder I knew. “Nightbird...” My voice was hoarse.

“Hush. Let me work.”

Just behind me, the other set of feet stopped. I saw his boots and his tunic as he knelt in the sand. “Are you all right, lass?”

“Raubahn...I'm...so sorry.”

“Hush, damn you.” Nightbird's voice shook. “That – that _monster_ nearly killed you. Just keep quiet.”

I heard Raubahn giving orders to see to the wounded. Water dropped into the sand – I was crying. Humiliation, pain, sorrow...Nightbird's magic flowed across me, different from Alphinaud's, tasting strangely of tea and spice. Along with soothing, it poured energy into my limbs. I managed, at last, to sit up, resting on my heels.

Her face was streaked with tears, but her expression was ferocious. “Monsters,” she muttered. “These people were murdered where they stood.”

“Shtola,” I managed.

“Can't you worry about _yourself_ for a change?” she demanded.

I shook my head, and slowly got to my feet.

“Come on then,” Nightbird sighed. She put her hand on my arm and walked me over to the tree where I had seen Lyse.

Y'Shtola lay where she had fallen. Blood stained the sand. Krile was still pouring healing aether into her. Not a yard away, Alphinaud's eyes were shut as he concentrated his efforts on Commander Kemp. Lyse was kneeling beside Y'Shtola, muttering. I could hear it in her voice that she was trying not to weep.

I sank to one knee beside my friends and set my hand on Lyse's shoulder.

“It's going to be all right,” Krile said, forcefully. Then she flicked her eyes to Nightbird. “Don't just stand there gawping,” she snapped. “You're a healer, aren't you?”

“Do you want me helping you, or the other?” Nightbird asked simply.

“Here. Alphinaud's more than capable of handling the commander's injuries.”

Nightbird didn't speak, just knelt, and added her own power to Krile's. The wind blew smoke across us. Pipin struggled to his feet, and headed off with his father the General. The sounds of people moaning in pain slowly faded as the wounded were helped by the newly arrived Alliance healers.

The dead, of course, were silent.

“I can do no more here,” Krile said at last. “I need the proper facilities.”

Alphinaud sighed and sat back. “Commander Kemp would be better served in the infirmary as well.” His voice was leaden. He moved off, just long enough to check on Alisaie, who sat in the dirt, holding her side and concentrating on breathing slowly and carefully. He murmured to her, and helped her to her feet.

“Give us a hand,” Krile said to me. I nodded, and patted Lyse.

“Take Shtola,” I told her, my voice still raspy. “I'll get Kemp.”

“Right.” Lyse scrubbed at her cheeks and nodded.

Carrying them to the infirmary was – painful. By the time I set Kemp down on the very last empty cot to be had, my legs were wobbly and my head was swimming. I reeled out of the room and sat down on a crate just outside. With my head in my hands I took long, slow breaths. _Can't break down right now. People need help. Gods...is this what the Resistance has been fighting against, all this time? This...monster?_

A hand rested on my shoulder. “Berylla...?”

I set my hand over Alphinaud's, glad for the moment of comfort. “There are others who need you more than I do right now,” I told him. “I'm not okay, but I won't fall on my face until later. I promise.”

I felt him sigh. “Very well. You know where I will be.” He squeezed my shoulder once, and left me.

I sat only long enough to gather myself again, and got up to find Raubahn.

I found him standing near the water, giving orders. He was a pillar of calm among the chaos. He saw me, and set his hand on my arm. “You did well,” he told me, and in his voice I heard it. He _understood_.

He had said it before. This was war. People were going to die. He'd seen his share of losses. There _would_ be time for tears, but not now.

“You saved lives. That's all that matters. Now, we do what we can for the wounded. Every minute counts.”

I nodded. “Just tell me what to do. Please.”

“Aid the wounded. If they are beyond your help...” He squeezed my arm. “Move on.”

I walked into the ruined circle where the sutlers had been set up. The tents were still smoldering, but somehow, Ahelissa had rebuilt the fire, salvaged some pots, and had tea and some kind of soup going already. She sniffled as she stirred, and her arm was in a sling, but when she looked at me there was no accusation in her glance.

I glanced around, and saw a young recruit kneeling beside a fallen man. I headed over to see what I could do.

But when I saw his face, I gulped down a fresh spate of tears.

 _Meffrid. Oh, gods damn it all_.

“She cut him down,” the recruit said. His voice was flat, as if he couldn't believe what was before his eyes. “Just – a single blow, and he was gone. Damn it, Meffrid!” The young man bent over his own knees. “Weren't you the one telling me to use my head and stay alive?!”

I knelt, and put my arm across his shoulders. He only wept for a minute – harsh, racking sobs, but quiet ones. Then he straightened. Only then did he actually look at me. I recognized him – the young man from Ala Ghanna. _Wiscar, that was it_.

“Oh.” He scrubbed at his face. “I – I'm sorry, Warrior...”

“Don't be.” I patted his back. “Never apologize for having a heart, kid. It's what sets us apart from the monsters. He was,” I swallowed, and didn't hide it. “He was a good man.”

Wiscar held up a little wooden charm, and I took it from him. “ That charm must've been important. You'd best take it to Conrad,” he told me. “I'll...see to Meffrid now.”

“You're a good kid, Wiscar. Thank you.”

I left him, then, and headed back to the infirmary. I kept an eye out as I walked – but there were no more wounded to tend. Only the grieving, and the dead.


	84. Only the Living Can Weep

Kemp was sitting up, looking as if he wanted to get up and knew he couldn't yet. I came over to him, and he looked up at me. His eyes were tired. “M'Naago? Meffrid? Where are they?”

I held out the charm.

He took it, and then closed his fist around it. His head bent, and his shoulders shook for a moment. “He's dead, isn't he.”

“I'm sorry. Naago is on her way to Oriens already, wounded but still walking.”

“Meffrid was a worrier. Always thinking about others before himself. He once had an Imperial patrol chase him nigh on twenty malms so that his wounded would have time to escape...” Kemp sighed, eyes still closed. “His comrades loved him for it, of course...though that only made him worry more.”

I set my hand on his shoulder, unable to do anything more.

“Did you know that he sent his men in Quarrymill away because he thought they were fighting for him, and not the cause?” Kemp continued. “Aye, well, he did. The only life he was willing to risk was his own, you see.” His face seemed to crumple. “But that's exactly the kind of man who should be leader! The kind of man who deserves to survive. Not a...not an old fool who's all used up.”

I thought about Edmont's pain, after Haurchefant had fallen. “It's hard,” I nodded. “Hard to watch the young fall long before they should. And it makes no sense...”

“Because there is no logic to it,” Alphinaud said from behind me. I turned, and Kemp opened his eyes to regard the scholar. Alphinaud's face was full of determination.

“Who stands, who falls... In the heat of battle, we can but do our best─as he did. Meffrid will be sorely missed, aye...but because of his sacrifice, many now live who otherwise would not─and they need us, now more than ever.”

Kemp's face twisted for a second – angry, hurt by the way Alphinaud's words struck him. But then he took a long breath and nodded. “Aye...that they do. Forgive me. I had...high hopes for him, is all.”

I squeezed the commander's shoulder once, then let him go and spoke to my friend. “How is Alisaie?”

“I'm _right here_ ,” she answered, testily, and I pulled aside the cloth that hung between the cots.

“Ah, still full of vinegar, then.” I half smiled.

“At least Alphinaud's not about to burst into tears anymore,” she replied. But her laugh was forced, and she winced.

“Damn it, Alisaie!” Alphinaud crossed his arms. “You need to rest!”

“I'm fine, brother.” She winced again. “Or I will be, soon enough. There's too much to be done for me to lay about.” For all the light tone of her words, her eyes on his were implacable. I'd seen _that_ look before.

Alphinaud recognized it too. He looked away from her, and I could see him forcing himself to calm down. Alisaie nodded once when he sighed.

Pipin strode up to us. He cast a questioning glance at Alisaie and Kemp, and the old man nodded to him. “My injuries aren't serious─though that was clearly by choice and not happenstance. They meant to take me alive.”

Pipin shook his head, his gray eyes troubled. “Our defeat was no near thing. It was total─a humiliation. We were powerless to withstand our enemy's assault.” He shook his head. “But we cannot afford to dwell on our failure. As Alphinaud said, it is those who survived whom we must think of now.” He regarded all of us for a moment. “Rhalgr's Reach is no longer safe. The Imperials may have withdrawn, but they could return at any time to finish what they began. We dare not remain here. Those who are not fit to make the journey to Castrum Oriens will need to be taken by chocobo carriage. Agreed?”

Alphinaud and I both nodded at the same time, Kemp just a beat behind us. “Good. I shall oversee preparations for the carriages. In the meantime, I would have you scour the infirmary for any supplies that might prove useful during the journey.” With that the Marshal strode away. I was suddenly glad that he was in charge of everything. For all his small stature, he was every bit the leader his father was, and the strength he showed now would carry all of us tonight.

I stepped to the other end of the infirmary, looking for Lyse. I found her, standing beside the cot where Y'Shtola lay. Krile was doing some sort of bandaging – clearly temporary – and looked up at me. She looked tired enough to collapse, but her voice was firm. “It's too early to make any kind of prognosis, but...she's alive. For now.” She sighed and went back to her work.

I started to reach out to Lyse, but she shook her head, and I let her alone. “If it wasn't for her, it'd be me lying there.”

“She wouldn't thank you for standing there beating yourself up about it,” I told her. “They're going to move everyone – all the wounded at the very least – out of here, to Oriens. It's not safe...Pipin is arranging carriages for those who can't walk.”

“I'm going to need a hand, then,” Krile said, and looked up at Lyse.

“As if you have to ask,” Lyse snorted. “Thank you, Berylla. We'll get her ready.”

I nodded, and walked off. I felt useless, and sore, and exhausted. But there was still more to do.

I tapped on the table to get the head doctor's attention. The woman glanced up, frowning. Before she could fuss, I told her about the plan to move the wounded and our need for medicines to accompany the injured. Her frown stayed in place, but she said, “In that case, you are free to search the Barber and take that which you require. I would not have our people dying en route.”

I nodded, and went through the infirmary, collecting what bottles of medicine I could in a box. When I carried the box out into the night, a carriage stood ready. The driver took the box from me with grave thanks, and I saw Lyse and Krile alighting from the back of the thing. “She's all strapped in,” Krile said, “And I'll be right beside her the whole way.”

“I'll walk alongside,” Lyse said. “They need protecting while we're on the road.”

Her eyes went to someone beyond me, and she frowned. “Aren't you injured too?”

“I'm not so frail that I can't make the trip on my own,” Kemp answered, though without heat.

I turned to face him, and saw Alisaie and Alphinaud just behind him. He nodded once to Lyse.

“Besides, there's still work to be done here,” he told her. “I'll see you at the Wall when it's finished.”

Pipin, walking up as Kemp was speaking, nodded. “As you wish. Then let us set forth at once. We shall move as quickly as our comrades' health allows.” He turned to the carriages, and gestured. “To Castrum Oriens!”

Nightbird walked up as the carriages began to move out. Something in her expression made me say, “What's wrong?”

“I need you to come with me. Now.”

“All right.”

Alphinaud followed the two of us, though Alisaie stepped back into the infirmary, talking in low tones with Kemp. Nightbird's stride was fast – _angry_ – and though I had no trouble keeping up, I was still concerned.

When she led us to the little spot where Kalisti and Hara had set themselves up, I understood.

“Dear gods,” I breathed.

The tent was destroyed, half-collapsed and blackened where it had been on fire. Inside the little pocket-sized cave, the little corral was obliterated and most of the animals were – I swallowed hard.

Then I saw Hara, sitting alone beside the water, hugging her knees.

 _No. Oh gods, no_.

Behind me I heard Alphinaud's gasp of shock and dismay.

I turned towards the little girl, but Nightbird stopped me with a hand on my arm. “I've done what I can for her. Right now I need you to help me.” She pointed, and I saw a pair of shovels. “We need to deal with the bodies.”

“I'll sit with her, then?” Alphinaud offered. Nightbird nodded shortly.

I stepped over to the area Nightbird had already marked out and picked up one of the shovels.

“Gods.” I shook my head. “Damned Imperials.”

“Don't,” Nightbird grunted, throwing another shovel full of dirt. “Don't fucking pretend it's just Imperials who are cruel bastards. You know as well as I do that attacking the helpless isn't exclusively a Garlean pastime.”

I winced. “Nightbird...” Even with only the memories she'd given to me, I knew she usually didn't swear this much.

“Keep digging, damn it. You can have your feelings later. Regret isn't going to take care of this grave. Or Hara.”

I went back to digging.

I nearly lost what little was in my stomach as we gathered up Kalisti's mangled body. I could only hope that Hara hadn't had to witness what had been done to her mother. I was afraid to ask Nightbird anything. The goats had been so badly mangled that they couldn't even be salvaged for food.

I didn't like having to pile them all together. But there was no real choice.

Only once all the bodies were in the ground did I speak. “Should we...?”

“No.” Nightbird's voice was less harsh. “She already said goodbye. There's no purpose to making her watch us now.”

“Okay.”

At last, the rough grave was covered. It was done.

I stared at the mound of dirt, and wished I could come up with words to say. I wanted to apologize to them all – not just Kalisti, not just Meffrid, to all of them. Even though part of me knew better, it still felt as if I'd failed them.

Nightbird sighed. “Let's go collect our little waif.”

We returned to find Alphinaud patiently settling papers into a more or less neat pile, in the middle of a blanket. Hara was picking through the wreckage of the tent. Her little face was streaked with filth, the only clean places under her eyes where tears had flowed and not been wiped away. Nightbird's own eyes looked suspiciously damp as she went to the girl's side.

“Hara. It's time to go.”

“Not yet,” Hara pleaded. “I haven't found it yet.”

“Haven't found what, little one?”

“The rest of my book.”

I started to open my mouth, but Alphinaud got up and took my elbow, pulling me off to the side. Nightbird's tail lashed, but she stayed with the little girl, helping her in her search.

“We should be getting her out of here,” I said, worried. “There's no point trying to salvage anything...”

“Except that anything she can salvage now will be all she has left,” Alphinaud stated. His eyes were red, there was dirt on his face and his clothes, and he looked exhausted. But he was implacable. “It might seem like nothing much to you, but to her it's everything.”

Before Alphinaud could speak again, Nightbird's called to us. “Get over here, I need a hand!”

We came back to the collapsed tent. Hara was dancing from foot to foot, and Nightbird was holding on to her.

“What is it?”

Hara made an inarticulate noise of urgency, and Nightbird soothed her once more. “It seems we have another survivor. I can hear it. But it's in _that_ mess.”

I nodded. “Right. Just open it all up, you think?”

“It should be fastest. Be careful.”

All of us heard the cry, then, a tiny and pitiful mew.

I went straight to the wreckage and set to work. I didn't bother with finesse: just picked up the heaviest things, breaking poles and tearing fabric where I had to, and pitched stuff into a pile, more or less in the direction of the mass grave.

Presently the floor of the tent was exposed, and there, cowering under the one corner of the cot that hadn't collapsed, was a tiny black kitten.

I gently lifted the kitten and brought him over.

“Smudge...” Hara took him, and he burrowed against her, his pitiful cries fading into surprisingly loud purrs. The little girl began to weep, silently.

I turned away and went back to the tent, digging until I found the other half of her book.

I brought it over. Alphinaud took the barely-attached pages from me with care and bundled it all up.

“We need to take her to Oriens, I guess,” I said. “That's where they've sent the rest.”

“For now.” Nightbird picked the little girl up, settling her on one hip so that Hara could continue holding the now-dozing kitten.

Alphinaud's eyes drifted across the ruined settlement. “For more than a decade, the Resistance has resided here, hidden from the eyes of the Empire. And just when we set our sights on Velodyna, they strike.” He shifted the meager burden in his arms and looked at me, his eyes worried. “Do you not find that passing strange?”

I shrugged, feeling helpless to explain any of what had happened and far too tired to try to think about such questions. Not now.

We made our way back towards the place where the stream began. There, Kemp and Alisaie stood, the old man giving orders to a trio of Resistance fighters. All three had visible wounds – two had bandages on their heads, one had his arm in a sling. But they listened soberly and moved off as Kemp dismissed them, and it was clear that their injuries were – comparatively – minor.

Kemp looked at us as we approached. “You saved a good many of my men, and I cannot thank you enough for that...But the fact remains: our forces were decimated. In this state, we'll not be mounting an assault on Castellum Velodyna or anywhere else.” He took a long breath. “We need to be honest with ourselves about our prospects. But first, we need to put our affairs here in order.”

Alphinaud's brows furrowed. “Master Kemp, your concern for your men's well-being is commendable, but I would urge you to consider your own.”

Kemp smiled. “I am. Once I've finished here, I'll join you all at Castrum Oriens.”

The scholar nodded. “Understood. We will go and speak with General Aldynn.”

Raubahn was still standing where he had been an hour ago, and waved to us as we approached. Nightbird and Alisaie had remained near the stream, waiting for our return before they headed to Oriens.

“Pipin has already departed with the wounded, has he? Good.” Raubahn nodded, looking a little tired himself, now. “We have completed our search of the Reach and the surrounding area. As far as we can tell, Zenos and his men returned to Specula Imperatoris after quitting this place. It would seem he's lost interest in us.”

Alphinaud frowned. “Which brings us to the most troubling question of all─not how he found us, but why he chose to spare our lives having done so.”

I frowned, too. “That's just crazy.”

Raubahn waved his hand a little, dismissing the question. “In war, you kill or capture your enemy. You don't leave him to fight another day. Only a fool would turn his back and walk away...but Zenos is no fool. Whatever his motive, this is neither the time nor the place to think on it. I will leave a token force to watch over the Reach. The rest will fall back to Castrum Oriens. We can discuss our path forward there.”

Oriens was chaos – but controlled chaos. The air was free of smoke and soot, and no one was crying, here. I glanced at the sky and marveled that it was still night – it felt like it ought to be nearly dawn.

Many of the uninjured Alliance soldiers had given up their cots to the wounded. _Good thing half of the castrum was essentially empty_. Orders were being given and messengers sent to request more supplies and to apprise the Council of what had transpired.

Nightbird spoke to me as we approached the gates. “I have a bunk with the healers. I'll keep Hara with me; she won't take up much space and I can keep an eye on her. There aren't enough cots to go around anyway.”

I nodded. Alphinaud handed Nightbird the pitiful little bundle with Hara's meager belongings, and the Miqote strode off. Hara was nearly asleep in her arms, Smudge tucked into her tunic.

Only as we watched her walk away did it occur to me that Alphinaud hadn't even blinked to see Nightbird here. I glanced over at him. “Why do I get the feeling that you and Nightbird have worked together before?”

“Because we have.” He shrugged a little. “She contacted me in Ishgard not long after our arrival, proffering her help. At the time...we needed every ally we could acquire.” He smiled then. “I shall ever be glad that I trusted her that day.”

I twisted my mouth a little. “Alisaie will be so disappointed,” I commented. “I think she was looking forward to an altercation between the two of you.”

His laugh was tired, but genuine.

We caught sight of Lyse leaning against one of the lamp posts, arms crossed, face pensive. Even as we headed toward her, Alisaie strode up and came even with us. “Kemp wasted no time,” she said, to Alphinaud's raised eyebrow. “No one wanted to dawdle.”

Lyse looked up as we came near. “Krile is with Y'Shtola. She still hasn't woken up, but...Krile says she's through the worst.”

Alphinaud nodded, and swiped at his forelock. “Given the severity of her wound, we could have hoped for no more. Let us pray she makes a full recovery.”

Lyse nodded, but her eyes were on the ground. “We lost a lot of good people. Didn't we.”

The three of us exchanged glances; there wasn't much we could say to that. Comforting words would be worse than useless, right now. But Lyse didn't seem to notice.

“I saw it happen,” she said, her tone dull. “When the Skulls commander cut down Meffrid. A single blow, and that was it. Everything he fought for, all his hopes and dreams for the future. Gone in an instant.” Her teeth clenched and her arms tightened around herself. “And do you want to know the worst part? It wasn't a Garlean who did it – it was an _Ala Mhigan_.” She squeezed her eyes shut and her breath hissed through her teeth. “Gods help me, if I ever – ”

Used to doing the same, I knew exactly what her sudden silence meant. She was throttling it down, forcing herself to feel nothing at all.

“Not now,” she whispered. She straightened and took a long breath. “Not while the General's waiting.”

She walked away towards the command table, and Alisaie watched her go with a sad expression. “Oh, Lyse...”

 _She'll find a way to cope. She has to. This isn't over, not by a long road_.

But my steps felt even heavier as I followed the twins to join everyone else at the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you who have been reading, and anyone who has made it this far - if the real world had achievement points you should earn some!  
> This has been one of the most wonderful writing experiences of my whole life and it's as much because of all of you as because of the writing itself.
> 
> That said, I'm also running a little low on creative fuel and writing time. Especially with patch 5.3 coming up!
> 
> I will be taking a short hiatus from updates - a couple of weeks is all, I promise!  
> This is not over!


	85. A Cause for Hope

Kemp was already speaking as we took our places. “Were it not for the swift actions of the Scions and the Alliance, many more would have died. You risked your lives to save ours, and for that, we thank you.”

Alphinaud cocked his head at the older man. “There is no need for thanks. We are allies, are we not?”

Raubahn nodded. “Aye, just so. Let us dwell not on this tragedy, but look to the future.”

“Future?” Kemp sighed – a sound that carried so much exhaustion and pain it made my eyes sting. “I'm sorry, General, but there _is_ no future for us. We've lost too many. They've ripped the heart out of us, General. They've broken us. Our fight is over.”

“Master Kemp...” But even Alphinaud couldn't summon up words to soothe, this time.

Kemp bowed his head, and his shoulders slumped as if under a great weight. “I'll always hate them,” he continued. “With every fiber of my being. For what they took from us, then and now. Our homeland. Our freedom. Our bloody children.”

Lyse's head was down too, but her voice was bitter. “You mean the Skulls. The youths, who fight for Zenos.”

Kemp nodded. “Crania Lupi. The Black Wolf's legacy and our shame. A unit made up of children born to Ala Mhigan dignitaries who came of age during the occupation. Sons and daughters of Gyr Abania, raised to be proud citizens of the Empire – with all the rights and responsibilities that entails.”

I thought back on what I'd heard the Skulls saying as they beat Wercrata. _The rights, maybe, the responsibilities for certain. But none of the respect_.

“It'd be easy,” Kemp said, “to curse them and call them traitors, but they're our children. Our flesh and blood! If the only way to forge the future we want is to cut down our own, then...” His voice broke off, before the sob could escape him.

I looked away. _What good did we do coming here, then? We've only made things worse._

But movement caught my eye, and when I glanced over, my mouth dropped open.

M'Naago staggered up to the table, still holding her side, grimacing with pain. Her fist came down on the wood, startling Kemp and most of the others.

Her voice was breathless and shaking, but it lacked nothing for volume. “Then what was it all for?!” she demanded of her commander. Her eyes leaked tears but there was only anger in her tone. “What will you say to the families of the fallen? To the mothers and the widows and the orphans? Will you tell them that it was all for _nothing?_ ”

Kemp stared at her in shock and dismay, but Raubahn stepped nearer to her and set his hand on her shoulder.

“Listen to the girl,” he implored the commander. “We dare not suffer our comrades' sacrifices to have been in vain. Now is the time to steel our resolve and press on, painful though it might be.”

Kemp's eyes were bright with tears. I understood, suddenly. The man wasn't thinking in terms of what his people could actually accomplish: he was grieving and that was shaping more of his words than his good sense. M'Naago – and Raubahn – weren't going to let him quit so easily.

But he was a stubborn fellow. He raised his chin, and his voice carried bitterness. “And when Zenos comes back with his army? What then?” he countered. “This isn't the first time, you know. You'll be hard-pressed to find men brave or stupid enough to face him again.”

M'Naago's expression said more loudly than any shout that she, for one, was willing to face Zenos – as many times as it took. Raubahn looked as if he knew exactly how many of Kemp's men felt just the same as she did.

“I still can't believe how strong he was,” Lyse said. “He humiliated us back there, even the Warrior of Light. Gods help us if he's next in line to the Garlean throne.”

Alphinaud had his “thinking” look on again. “Loath though I am to say it,” he said slowly, “we should not be surprised. Before succeeding van Baelsar in Ala Mhigo, Zenos led the Imperial army to Doma, where he crushed the rebellion utterly. As a matter of fact, Doma remains in his charge to this day. Suffice it to say, Varis's heir is a peerless warrior and an accomplished general...” But he didn't sound at all discouraged as he looked up at me. “The question is, how are we to contend with such a foe?”

There was expectation in his eyes, and the words just popped out of my mouth without me really thinking about them. “We take the fight to Doma.”

The way his eyes lit up told me I had said _exactly_ what he'd wanted me to say. “Interesting,” he replied, and then smiled. “You are suggesting we kindle the flames of revolution in Doma once more, and force Zenos to fight a war on two fronts?”

Weary as I was, there was no way I could miss the way he said that. This was his idea – and he was using me to present it, borrowing my status as Warrior of Light to support the notion. We hadn't talked about this since the Council meeting, when I'd first suggested helping Doma, and gotten shot down.

Somehow, knowing he had kept my suggestion in mind – had plainly given it serious thought in fact – made me want to kiss him. Even if he was also manipulating the situation, and me.

I settled for a small smile, and nodded, just as if I really was so brilliant as to come up with an idea like that one.

His smile widened for just a moment.

Kemp spoke. “For that, there would need to be someone left to fight on this front by the time you got back.” He shook his head, his shoulders lifting – but still uncertain. “Look, I'll not deny that the plan has promise – and I feel for our brothers and sisters in Doma, truly I do – but I fear we lack the strength to see it through.”

Raubahn's voice rang with pride. “Have faith in your people, Master Kemp,” he rumbled. “In them, and in the Scions. Hold fast, rebuild, and when all is in place, we shall defeat Zenos together.”

Kemp stared at the General for a long moment, and I could see the hope rekindle in his eyes.

“If you're going to Doma,” Lyse said suddenly, “I'm coming too. I want to help our friends there...and make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

Raubahn met my eyes. “Give us the time we need,” he told me, “and we will give you something far greater.”

I felt every eye on me, and for the first time I truly understood the kind of power I held now. The power of belief: not my own, but the belief of others in the Warrior of Light. Despite my utter failure tonight – they all still believed, truly believed, that any effort I lent my strength too could, would surely, succeed. The hope of not one, but two nations lay in my hands.

And across my shoulders.

I'd never felt such a weight in all my life.

But I stood tall, and I met Raubahn's eyes, then the eyes of everyone else, ending up holding Kemp's gaze. And I nodded. “Let's do it. Let's free Doma and Ala Mhigo both.”

The spark of hope that Raubahn had woken flared up. Kemp's back straightened, and his eyes blazed.

“Very well.” He nodded back to me. “For all you have done for us, we will fight on.” He bowed. “But be swift, comrades. Ala Mhigo has suffered enough.”

Alphinaud, Alisaie, Lyse, and I were still standing near the aetheryte when Krile trotted back out of the main infirmary building. She smiled slightly as she came up to us. “So then...Doma?”

Alphinaud cleared his throat. “Much as I would like it if we could all make this journey together, someone will need to remain to serve as liaison to the Alliance and the Resistance during this critical period. Moreover, as Y'Shtola cannot be left unattended...”

Krile's eyes flashed. “Then I should obviously remain? Very well. Issue addressed.” I hid my grin as I saw her razor-sharp smile appear, the one that Alphinaud feared so very much. Her tone was bright as a bared blade as she spoke. “You know, Alphinaud, it would have been quicker just to ask─and markedly less patronizing.”

Alisaie didn't even try to hide her laugh.

Alphinaud coughed. “Y-Yes, I suppose.” He rallied, and tried again. “Would you be willing to look after Y'Shtola and provide support to Arenvald and the others?”

“Yes, Alphinaud. I would.” The razor smile didn't waver. “You see? That wasn't so hard, was it? Enjoy your trip, and don't you dare return with a gift!”

Perhaps it was only me who heard him mutter in answer to that. “Oh, I would not dream of it.”

Krile waved to us, and wandered off in the direction of the healers' quarters. I smiled after her. Still such a tough cookie, to have that much energy after the hellish night we'd all endured.

“ _"Where men go as one, there is life. And where there is life, there is cause to hope."_ Our grandfather believed that, and so do I.” Alisaie leveled a stare at her brother. “But before we can forge ties with our friends in the Far East, we must first find a way to reach them. Othard is not exactly over the river and through the woods.”

Alphinaud sniffed once. “I am one step ahead of you there, dear sister.” Then he waved his hand. “For now, I propose that you and Lyse both get some rest.” He looked at me. “You and I,” he said, “have some business to attend to, I believe.”

“You?” I blinked at him. “Why? I can get Hara where she needs to go.”

“Hara? Who's Hara?” Alisaie wanted to know. Lyse just listened, bemused.

“She's an orphan,” answered Nightbird, as she joined us.

“Shouldn't you be out cold?” I gave her an astonished look.

“I'm about to be. I was making inquiries. Hara's already asleep, don't worry.”

“Inquiries?” asked Alphinaud.

“Absolutely no one will claim the girl.” Nightbird's eyes smoldered. “The Gridanian orphanages are not currently taking in new children – they're out of room. Or so I am told.”

“That's...odd,” Alphinaud frowned. “Surely something can be done...”

“Ishgard,” Nightbird said immediately. “I want to take her there as soon as possible.”

“Ishgard...?” She gave me a meaningful look, and then I got it. “Oh.”

Nightbird and I both had far stronger connections with Ishgard now than anywhere else. Somehow or other, one of us would be able to find a place for the poor kid. And maybe even Smudge the kitten, too.

“Right,” I nodded. “Ishgard it is.”

“I'll need to ask for leave time,” Nightbird said, “since I attached myself to the General specifically.” She looked at Alphinaud. “If you insist on accompanying us, turn that silver tongue of yours to arranging it, would you?”

His ears went pink for a moment, to be spoken to so – but then he nodded. “I can certainly discuss it with the General,” he said.

“Thank you.” Nightbird nodded once. “I won't be leaving the healers' hall for some time. Come find me when it's time to leave, please.”

And with that she stalked off.

Lyse gazed after her, and Alisaie looked both astonished and amused.

Dawn was beautiful from up here. I held the link-pearl in my fingers, and breathed deep of air not yet choked with dust. I was so tired – but I had one thing left to do before I could grab a little rest.

I set the device to my ear, and activated it.

“Berylla?” Aymeric's voice sounded concerned – as well it might, I'd never called him at _dawn_. “Is everything all right?”

“It's...there's a lot to tell you, and I don't want to try explaining it all right now,” I told him. “But I'm coming home for a little while. I – ah, I need your help with a few things, as well.”

“Oh? You have only to ask.”

“I'll be bringing some folks with me. Alphinaud, Nightbird, and um. A little girl.”

There was silence on the line, and I swallowed nervously. “There's a long story to tell,” I added. “And I'm not asking you to take her in. But if you could, I don't know, waft some charm at the orphanage in the New Nest?”

To my relief, I heard the faintest “ah” of understanding. “I can certainly expedite the paperwork at least,” he answered.

““We can take an inn room, stay out of your way.”

“You will do no such thing,” Aymeric's voice was sharp. “You will _all_ be my guests. I do have that much room.”

“You just don't want me to be in town and not with you.”

“Also a factor.”

I laughed quietly. “We're hoping to catch the evening airship from Gridania. Though if paperwork here takes too long, we might have to catch the midnight ship.”

“I'll make some arrangements. Let me know when you're on your way.”

“Thank you. We'll see you soon.”

“I look forward to it.” His voice was a caress.

Back down I went, to find Alphinaud waiting for me. “Okay,” I told him. “We'll have a place to stay when we get there. All we have to do is get ourselves to Gridania...were you able to...?”

Alphinaud's expression was almost smug. “We have three days,” he told me. “I did have to make a deal with the general, however.”

“All right, what do we have to do?”

“Escort the caravan of wounded going into the East Shroud for recovery. After we get them to Hawthorne, a contingent of Wailers is assembled to bring them on the rest of their journey.”

I nodded. Then yawned hugely. “When?”

“Late afternoon, they've said. Everyone yet needs time to rest.”

“Great. I'll see you after my nap.”

The “caravan” was two wagons full of dirty, exhausted, silent folk. Most of them wore bandages and slings. None of them spared us even a glance.

We came up, already mounted, and the guard gave us a salute before turning and walking off. The three drivers looked at me expectantly.

Nightbird was sitting on a rented bird, Hara tucked against her. The little girl was falling asleep again already.

“Let's head out, then.” I took point, and waved my arm to the drivers.

Alphinaud's bird trilled a little, and the wagon-birds answered him as they all began to trudge their way into the forest.

Dusk was settling over the Shroud as I guided Joy back onto the road. “There's something to be said for military efficiency,” I sighed. “Those folks will be well cared for from here on out.”

Nightbird's face was sour. “They should have done the same for Hara.”

“They said I was touched,” came the little voice. Hara's tone was matter-of-fact. “They said it wasn't natural that I could talk to the animals and make friends.”

“What a load of sh...” I cut off the curse.

Alphinaud laughed quietly.

“Well, we have you for now,” Nightbird soothed.

Hara mumbled something, already falling back into a doze.

I gazed at the little girl for a minute, until Alphinaud laughed again.

“What?”

“Your face,” he chuckled. “I never thought I'd see you of all people doting on anyone.”

“Oh...screw off,” I muttered, blushing.

“Now that we're actually in conversational distance,” Nightbird said mildly, “I believe you need to tell us how your call went.”

“The paperwork should be done – or nearly done – by morning. Once we get there, we're going to Borel Manor.”

“Oh really?”

“He insisted on putting all of us up for the night.” I rubbed the side of my nose. “He might also adopt the kitten.”

“Just how many favors does the Lord Speaker owe you?” Alphinaud asked.

I scoffed. “He's my friend, and once he hears her story, it won't be about favors at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back from my short rest!
> 
> I will soon be concluding this work - but don't worry, there will be more story to come soon enough!


	86. Orphan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different! I will be changing points of view somewhat instead of staying only in Berylla's head. Everyone had something to say I guess!

Hara woke as they were boarding the airship – having just caught the evening flight. She wriggled in Nightbird's arms. Smudge made a whining sort of mew, jostled by the motion.

“Here, let me hold him for a bit, so you can look around,” Berylla offered.

Hara smiled – the first smile they'd seen from her – and carefully handed the kitten over. Berylla cradled Smudge carefully against her chest bone, and pretended not to hear Alphinaud's mutter of “lucky cat.”

The flight was quiet, punctuated by occasional questions from the little orphan girl, who was naturally fascinated by her first experience of air travel. Alphinaud stayed right by her side, patiently answering her questions and pointing out interesting things in the landscape, picked out by the ship's running lights.

Berylla was first off the ship when they landed, still carrying the kitten. Hara shivered as she stepped off – a light snow was beginning, and the breeze was always brisk on the landing. Alphinaud picked her up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging like a vine.

“Jarilant, you're a blessing,” Berylla was saying as they approached. The tall old Elezen smiled tolerantly, and then tucked the cloak in his hands over Alphinaud's shoulders. The cloak was more than big enough to cover both the slender scholar and the little girl in his arms.

“Let's get out of the cold,” Nightbird suggested.

Aymeric's sitting room had rarely been so full. It was probably going to be very dirty after this, too. He smiled at the thought. Though the maids might complain to themselves, any dirt or even damage to this room was of little concern compared to the comfort it was offering his friends, and the utterly charming little girl they had brought. The black kitten that had also been brought along was fast asleep in a small box under the table.

He sat in his favorite chair, drinking hot cocoa and watching them. He had never thought to see Berylla in such a role, but she was positively spoiling the girl, slipping her extra cookies when Nightbird wasn't looking.

Even Alphinaud was remarkably tender towards the waif. Watching them made his heart contented in a way he'd never felt before.

But the child was beginning to yawn hugely. He decided it was time for him to speak up.

“You have all had a very long day,” he said, sitting forward to set down his empty mug. “I've arranged rooms for you.”

“We ought to clean up before we retire,” Alphinaud said, then yawned. “Oh! Pardon.”

“The bathing chamber is also prepared.”

“Girls first,” Berylla said firmly. Alphinaud rolled his eyes at her, and she ignored him. “Which rooms, Aymeric?”

“Both of them,” he chuckled. “I had thought to put the young lady and Mistress Nightbird in the green room, as it has the larger bed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Nightbird shrugged. “As long as the bed stays still, I expect I'll sleep quite well.”

“Then let's go take care of cleaning up,” Berylla said, standing.

Hara followed her, looking half asleep already, and Nightbird brought up the rear of their little group as they left the sitting room.

Alphinaud rubbed one eye, and served himself the last of the cocoa. He took a drink, then set the mug down. “I've a question. It is likely very rude, none of my business, and terribly intrusive, but I feel I must ask.”

“Go on,” Aymeric said, his tone mild. He had a good notion what was on the young man's mind.

“You and Berylla...you are involved with each other, it seems. I wish to know what your intentions are with her.”

Aymeric raised one eyebrow. “You are correct, your question is most intrusive.” Then he smiled faintly. “As Lord Speaker, I cannot afford to indulge in any sort of public relationship. Even though I have no fear of losing my position, it still would make for bad feelings among people that I am already wrangling with on a daily basis.”

Alphinaud's cheeks went pink. “I shan't apologize.”

“And I do not ask it of you.” Aymeric settled back in his chair, and folded his hands across his lap. “I will however answer your rude question more fully, with the understanding that this does not leave this room.”

“Obviously.”

“My intentions toward Berylla are entirely honorable, and absolutely dependent on her wishes. Thus far, it has been her wish that we remain very good friends.”

Alphinaud's eyes dropped. “I see.”

“She is, however, of the same mind as Lord Haurchefant had been, when it comes to friends.”

The younger man frowned slightly, then coughed. His cheeks went very pink. “Oh.”

Aymeric hid his smile, and wondered if Berylla knew about her colleague's interest. He was no longer the stripling he had been when Aymeric had first met the two of them.

Before he could speak further on the subject, Milinne came into the room. She began to collect the scattered dishes, and Alphinaud quickly hid his embarrassment.

“If you wait perhaps another ten minutes, milord,” Milinne told the scholar, “The bathing chamber ought to be ready for you. The girls were just finishing when I looked in on them.”

Alphinaud nodded. “Thank you.”

“Were you able to find those old clothes, Milinne?” Aymeric asked.

“Sadly, no, milord,” she answered with a small sigh. “However, we contrived something that ought to do for one night.”

He hummed to himself a little, and Milinne fixed him with a look. “Oh, very well,” he sighed, “I shan't worry over it for now. All the shops are doubtless closed for the night anyway.”

She nodded, and left with the large tray piled with dishes. Alphinaud's eyes danced as he smiled across the table at the Lord Speaker. “And I thought Berylla was the only one doting.”

“You didn't see your own face,” Aymeric retorted. “It is only natural, however. Bringing such small comfort as I may to one who has suffered...a few indulgences of food or even of clothing seems paltry when held against all she must have lost.”

The younger Elezen bent his head. “Indeed.”

“Will you tell me of her situation? Berylla said there was a story attached.”

Alphinaud related the circumstances that had led up to them bringing Hara to Ishgard, and Aymeric listened, quietly attentive.

Upstairs, giggles rang through the bathing chamber, echoing off the tiles.

Hara, though tired, was enchanted by the bath, and had to be pulled up more than once as she tried to swim in it. “Come now,” Nightbird's voice was full of laughter, “You're making this take ten times as long as it should. Poor Alphinaud's waiting on us, you know.”

Hara giggled once more and then held still, letting the bard finish washing her hair a third time. It had taken that much, to get all the caked mud and soot out.

Berylla, having washed first, was combing her own hair. She laughed a little. “I don't know where she got this energy from. She was almost out on her feet when we came up here.”

“Probably,” Nightbird's voice was sarcastic, at odds with her tender expression as she carefully rinsed Hara's hair, “from those three extra cookies you sneaked her.”

“You _saw?_ ” Hara squeaked, and all of them laughed.

Berylla came over with a towel, and helped Hara out of the tub. The little girl dried herself, but let Berylla take over drying her hair.

Now clean and untangled, her hair showed highlights of purple as well as that deep blue color, just a shade lighter than her eyes. Though it was not long, it was thick and almost plush in texture. The ends were ragged – obviously Kalisti had cut her daughter's hair with a knife, not having scissors handy. But nonetheless Berylla smiled as she combed through the hair to hasten the drying. “It's so pretty, Hara.”

The little girl watched as Nightbird got clean, and then emptied the tub, climbed out, and began to dry off. “What are those?” she asked suddenly, pointing.

Nightbird's hand passed over the pale scars on her hip. “Old wounds, dear one. Nothing that troubles me anymore.”

Hara frowned. “Bad men?”

Nightbird dropped her towel, and Berylla paused in her combing.

The bard knelt before the orphan, and tipped her face up, looking into her eyes. “By the Twelve,” she murmured.

“The Echo?” Berylla asked, and Nightbird nodded.

Hara looked up at them both, her eyes troubled. “What is it?”

Nightbird took a deep breath. “You have a gift, child. Though it may not seem very helpful at times...but it can wait until tomorrow. The explanation will take some time.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Berylla blinked at this easy acceptance, but didn't comment.

They finished drying and dressing – Berylla and Nightbird of course had their own things to change into. Hara did not: but Milinne had brought one of her own, older shirts, to use as a night-dress.

Milinne was relatively petite, but Hara was still nearly swallowed up in the linen blouse. She giggled, sleepy once more, as the two women rolled up the sleeves.

Berylla swung her up into her arms to carry her, and the little girl stretched up her arms and hugged the Roe's neck. A damp kiss was pressed to her jaw – all the higher that the girl could reach – and Berylla smiled.

“You have the most foolish look on your face,” Nightbird chuckled as she opened the door to the hallway.

“So do you,” Berylla answered, with no heat in her voice.

“Of course,” the bard answered back. “She's entirely precious.”

They went down the hall and Berylla nodded to indicate the door Nightbird should open. Going inside, the bed was already turned down and a single lamp burned near the head of the bed.

Berylla tucked Hara in under the covers, and pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

Nightbird watched, leaning against the door jamb. When Berylla stepped over to the door, the bard looked up at her. “Sleep well. Eventually,” she smirked.

“Probably soon,” Berylla said, sticking her tongue out at her friend. “I'm pretty damn tired. And he should be too.”

Nightbird grinned. “See you in the morning, then.”

Berylla came down the stairs, and paused just outside the sitting room. Alphinaud's voice was tired, but it seemed he was telling Aymeric the sad, short tale of how they'd come to have a little girl in tow. She let him finish before she stepped into the room.

“The bath is free,” she told the scholar. “Nightbird and Hara are probably asleep already.”

He nodded. “The sooner I get cleaned up, the sooner I can sleep as well. I certainly feel the need for a long rest.”

He stood and started past her. She reached out and hugged his shoulders. He smiled a little, but didn't meet her eyes. “Good night, Berylla.”

“Good night. See you in the morning.”

She watched him go, then turned back to look at Aymeric, her eyebrows raised. “Did you have a nice conversation?”

“A quite pleasant discussion, yes.” Aymeric's eyes gleamed a little. “And quite a story, just as you said, was attached to our little guest.”

Berylla came to him and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Shall we discuss this further in private, my lord?” she murmured.

He hummed a little, toying with the end of her braid.

She smiled and let her lips brush against his ear. “Or I could sit in your lap.”

“Minx.” His breath huffed in a mostly silent laugh. “Perhaps some other time.”

He moved, and Berylla stood up straight to let him rise. He took her hand in his, and led her to his bedroom.

Morning came, and with it, pancakes.

“Dear gods,” Berylla commented, having come down last of the lot of them. “Aymeric, how hard have you been making poor Milinne work?”

He didn't even blush, just ate another bite, grinning.

There was a veritable mountain of pancakes in the middle of the kitchen table. Hara had two on a plate in front of her, and was apparently determined to sample every possible topping. Alphinaud's plate was mostly empty already, and he seemed far more focused on his coffee. As for Nightbird, she was nibbling some fruit and watching indulgently.

Berylla shook her head a little, and took a plate, then speared half a dozen of the pancakes, piling them untidily. Then she sat down beside Aymeric and started cutting neat bites.

Nightbird made a little noise, her eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter.

There wasn't much conversation, but the feeling around the table was of ease and relaxation. When the pancakes had been demolished and nothing remained but crumbs and the little pots of jam and syrup, the women ushered the little girl upstairs again.

Alphinaud set his cup down, and stood. “I have something I wish to do,” he told Aymeric. “I know not how long it might take, but Hara had a book, you see...”

“I understand,” Aymeric nodded. “I'll let them know.”

“Thank you.” With a brief bow, the scholar left.

Aymeric took himself outside to tend to his garden. Last night's snow had been kept off by the glass roof, of course, and most of the plants didn't need any particular attention. But spending time in his garden was not a pleasure Aymeric was going to do without, except for the direst of emergencies.

He was kneeling in front of the little shrine he'd made for Haurchefant, idly running his hand over the sage, when he heard the cat.

The little black kitten marched up and flung itself into the sage with typical kitten abandon. Aymeric laughed, and rescued his plants by plucking the kitten up and curling his hand around it.

He stood up, the kitten protesting and butting its head against his thumb, as the three girls came out into the garden. Hara looked very concerned until her eyes fell on Aymeric and his captive.

“There you are, Smudge!”

“Smudge, is it?” Aymeric smiled. He sat down in one of the chairs, and Hara trotted over to take the kitten from him, cuddling it to her chest.

“Yes. He was fatter when he was smaller, and mother called him pudgy. So, he was the small pudgy one and...”

Aymeric laughed. “Quite a clever way to arrive at a name.”

Berylla and Nightbird each took a chair as well, and the big Roe leaned her elbows on her knees. “I guess we need to talk about some things now, don't we?”

She addressed her words to Hara, and the child turned to look at her and nodded. “You have to leave me, don't you? At the ownerage.”

“Orphanage, and yes. Not that we don't like you...but it's much too dangerous for you to be out in the field with us.”

“I'm too little,” Hara nodded. Her eyes were sad. “What will happen to me at the...orphanage?”

“Nothing worse than schooling, I would say,” Aymeric answered. “There are many children there, some of them close to your age. Some older. They too have seen war. They'll understand you, at least a little.”

“Will they like me?”

“Who knows,” Nightbird answered. “Do you plan to try to be friends?”

“Yes,” Hara answered, in a tone that added, “of course.”

“Then if they do not like you, it is not your problem.”

“And I will have Smudge, so I will have one friend...” Hara's eyebrows drew together as she saw the adults shaking their heads. “No?”

“You won't be able to take him with you, I'm afraid.” Nightbird's expression was sympathetic. “However...you may be able to find him a home here in the city.”

Aymeric's eyebrow twitched, but he held his peace.

Hara bent her head, thinking. Her fingers petted the kitten as he purred and flexed his paws against her shirt.

Then she turned, and looked up at Aymeric through her lashes. “ _Could_ Smudge stay here with you?”

Even Estinien could not have resisted the quiet plea in her voice. Aymeric cleared his throat while Berylla hid a grin.

“Of course he may stay. I quite like cats, you know.”

Hara bent her head once more, whispering into the kitten's ear. When she looked up, her brow was clear. “He says he likes you.”

Utterly disarmed, Aymeric smiled gently. “I'm glad to know that. Come, let us settle him so that he may get a bit more breakfast, hm?”

The two women watched with thinly veiled amusement as the Lord Speaker let himself be led out of his own garden by an eight year old. But once the garden door closed, their smiles faded.

Berylla gave the bard a sideways glance. “That's not the only thing we need to settle.”

“You mean her Echo.”

“Yeah. I don't know what we ought to do. Hell, what _can_ we do?”

“I worked on her last night a little,” Nightbird answered. “I can give her a basic sort of training, enough to keep it from overwhelming her at least. Of more concern is explaining it to the minders at the orphanage.”

“I can do that much,” Berylla said. “All they really need to do is watch for the bad signs. They can send for one of the Scions if necessary. One of us would be my preference too,” she allowed, seeing Nightbird's reaction, “but if we're not available, even Arenvald will do. Anybody who's familiar with the Echo can sort Hara out. And she might never need it.”

“Very well, I will trust you to handle the explanations there.” The bard sat back a little and sighed. “She doesn't want us to go, naturally enough.”

“Can you blame her? She's been through a lot.”

“I know. I'm simply not...in any position to contemplate such things.” Nightbird looked away.

Berylla tilted her head as she regarded her friend. “Is everything okay with you and Estinien, by the way?”

“About the same as always.” Nightbird shook her head. “We're more apart than together, pursuing our work as we do.”

“Maybe once this is over you can clock him over the head and get him to make up his mind about what he wants.”

Nightbird laughed. “I should simply drag him off to a cave and have my way with him, then? How very romantic.”

Berylla snorted. “I wont judge if you two like to play rough.”

Nightbird's tail lashed, and then she laughed. “Let's not get into that sort of teasing. We have things to do.”

“That we do.” Berylla stood. “I'll head over to the orphanage.”

“I'll take care of getting her ready.”

The rest of the morning went by quickly. By the time Nightbird stepped out onto the street with Hara in tow, Berylla had been down to the orphanage in the New Nest and come back, all the papers having been signed. Alphinaud's errand had brought him back to the house with Hara's book, carefully put back together in proper sequence, and re-bound, and given a new, plain leather set of covers. Aymeric had gone up into his attics and unearthed a simple, but pretty, little wooden box to replace her old treasure-box. Milinne had gone out very briefly and returned with two dresses – neither one new, but they fit. Hara had been beside herself, what with all the attention.

So it was with a small satchel holding her second dress, her book, and her new treasure-box – and a wide smile – that the orphaned girl left Borel Manor.

Nightbird had spent the morning giving the girl an intensive lesson in protecting herself. Being able to contain her Echo was vital if she was going to live among other children who likely had backgrounds as traumatic as her own. She didn't need to be catching every stray memory and nightmare. Fortunately the girl was quick to pick up the techniques, and just as quick to understand why they were needed.

The bard sighed internally. The girl was entirely too precious, and she hated to have to leave her on her own this way. But what else could they really do? There were none among the Scions who could devote the time to the girl, and really, would it be any different than the orphanage in the end? If she were going to be cared for by strangers, at least now she would have children her own age around her.

Not for the first time Nightbird wished she dared bring up such a serious subject with Estinien. But he was off somewhere, on the trail of the abomination that had hatched out of rage and hatred and an egg made of light. She'd had enough of a time making him swear that he wouldn't try to take the creature on alone. Contemplating destruction and violence, courting injury and death, were everyday matters for the dragoon. But contemplating making a family?

He'd probably run so far away no one would ever see him again.

Or perhaps she was doing him an injustice. In any event, she wasn't free to contemplate it either, so what point in dwelling on it? Except that Hara roused every motherly instinct she had.

It helped that when they arrived at the place, Hara was immediately drawn into a game with the half-dozen children in the yard. All Nightbird had to do was add her name beside Berylla's on the papers, then help the girl store her few possessions in the little press at the foot of the bed she had been assigned.

Hara closed the lid of the press, and then turned to Nightbird, hugging her neck.

“You're going to do well here,” the bard said, softly stroking the girl's back. “These folk will care for you and keep you safe.”

“I know.” A tiny sigh, so small that even Nightbird's keen ears almost missed it.

“Remember, Alphinaud's going to write you a letter soon. He always keeps his promises.”

One last squeeze and Hara let go, stepping back. Her eyes were a little damp, but she smiled anyway. Nightbird's own eyes were a bit damp, at that. She stroked Hara's hair and stood up.

“Be good. We'll visit when we can.”

“Goodbye.”


	87. Not the Right Words

I lay in the bed and sighed as Aymeric gently massaged me. I was still healing from that awful night at the Reach. I was sore as hell, and I looked like a patchwork from all the bruises. But at least I had slept deeply last night...and would do so again tonight, if I had anything to say about it.

I breathed deeply, reveling in the gentle scent of lavender from his sheets and the feeling of being truly _clean_ again. It felt so very good to be free of the clinging yellow dust, and the faint stench of bird shit and worse. I still wanted to help the people of Ala Mhigo – more than ever. But I hated the landscape, especially right now.

I shivered as I heard that cold voice again in my memory. _“Pathetic.”_

“Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn't hurt me,” I answered. “Just...thinking.”

“Alphinaud mentioned that you had fought the viceroy, one on one. I didn't ask last night, but I would like to hear your version as well.”

“I got my ass handed to me,” I told him. “He...he was only _playing_ with me, I think.” I shivered again. “He nearly killed Y'Shtola. And then said she was a disappointment.” Slowly, I told him about the fight, struggling at times for the words I needed.

“The man sounds like a monster.” He smoothed my hair out of his way, working on my shoulder. “But – forgive me – why did he let you live?”

“Apparently because I was better sport than the others,” I mumbled. “He's sick. Truly, I think he's mad. And the Empire is...is...” I couldn't find the words.

“The Empire is evil,” Aymeric said flatly, his hands soothing my back. “Nothing they've ever done has led to anything but suffering and destruction.”

I frowned. “I don't want to believe that the Empire is evil through and through. There are thousands and thousands of people within its borders, Aymeric, and most of them aren't soldiers. They're just...people. Even the soldiers are just people. They follow orders...but surely they're not always happy about it. So are they really evil? Or just trapped by the Empire's ways?”

“Why does it matter?” he demanded.

“I don't know,” I sighed. “I supposed I'm just trying to make sense of what I've already seen. Try to be more ready for what I might see, on Alphinaud's little expedition.”

Aymeric lay down beside me, propping his head up on his hand. “Expedition?”

I turned my head to look at him. “He wants to go to Doma.”

“What?”

“After that...that massacre,” I said, “the Resistance is broken. Or at the very least, it's going to take quite some time for it to regroup and recover. The General isn't giving up, but the people...they need time.”

“But Doma?”

“Alphinaud is going to go there, and try to get in touch with our friend Yugiri.”

“The Alliance...”

“The Council isn't being consulted.” I met his gaze. “This is only the Scions.”

“And you're going.”

“I'm thinking about it,” I hedged.

“No,” he stated. “You've already decided.”

I turned on my side to fully face him. “Yes. I admit it. I wanted to help Doma from the start, you know.”

“I do know.”

“They _deserve_ help, just as surely as the Resistance does.”

“You barely know anything about Doma...”

I gave him a challenging stare. “I barely knew anything about Ishgard, too.”

“That's not quite what I meant...”

“So why shouldn't I go?”

He turned onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling. “Why indeed.”

I waited, and he finally turned his eyes back to me.

“You really don't want me to go, do you?” I asked softly.

“No. I don't.” He sighed. “It's too much risk. You're going blind into hostile territory. It's bound to put you in the path of that monster again. And maybe next time he won't be so...entertained.” He reached for my hand, and stroked my palm with his thumb, keeping his eyes on the motion. “So no, I don't like the idea at all. I don't like the risk to you personally, nor the risk to the Alliance should we lose the Warrior of Light. Especially if full scale war breaks out.” He looked up at me. “Without the Warrior of Light, how can we hope to succeed? Your very presence strengthens us; morale is never so high as when the men know that you'll be on the field with them.”

“Morale?” I shrugged. “There are other ways to maintain morale.”

“You are damned near an army unto yourself, Berylla. Don't you try to deny it.”

“So? I can be matched, outmatched even, by enough magitek armor and enough troops.”

“All the Alliance forces combined, even were we to strip every garrison and outpost,” Aymeric said testily, “amounts to but a quarter of the troops the Empire can bring to bear. We would be absolutely out-numbered and out-gunned.”

“There are all those adventurers,” I replied, trying not to sound irritated. “And the Scions.”

“Half of you are haring off into Doma!”

“Four or five of us at most,” I snorted. “All the rest will still be here to help. That's nothing to sneeze at, dammit.”

He glared at me. “You are so stubborn.”

“So are you. Your point?”

He paused, and blew out a breath. “Why are we arguing?”

“Because you're afraid,” I sighed. “And I don't blame you. I'm kind of scared too.”

“Why must you be so...” He pulled me to him, and rested his temple against mine. “So damned heroic.”

“It's my calling,” I said, but my chuckle was edged with tears.

“Stay with me,” he whispered.

“You know I can't.”

“Then promise me...”

“Promise what?”

“ _Anything_ , damn it. Give me some reason to believe you will return to me.”

I searched his face. How had I missed this desperation in him for so long? _I shouldn't have waited to tell him._

“Aymeric.” I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. “I swear, as long as there is breath in my body, I will always come back to you. Because...I love you.”

He went still for a moment, and then his arms were around me, his lips crushed against mine. I ignored my bruises, welcomed the pain, doing my damnedest to make him feel the truth of my words.

I let him roll me onto my back, glorying in the way his mouth slid across my skin. Both of us shook as if this were our first time – gasping at every little touch, exquisitely sensitive to the other's reactions. I couldn't speak, but every stroke, every kiss, every sigh, they all said the same thing. _I love you, I love you, I love you_.

He entered me, his eyes holding mine, his face reverent, and then his mouth was on mine, stealing my breath, swallowing my cries. His body thrust into mine and every stroke had me quivering, inching closer and closer to the peak. He lowered his head and tenderly suckled on my nipples. I cried out, softly, too overwhelmed to scream as I came for him, again and again under his gentle, relentless loving.

His movements became faster, harder, more desperate, and with his head resting on my shoulder I could hear him muttering. It sounded like some kind of prayer, and his voice was on the edge of tears even as I felt his body quake and his orgasm explode inside of me.

I drifted for a while, at the edge of consciousness, until he shifted his weight to look down at me.

“I have loved you,” he whispered, “for so very long. I never dared hope to hear you say those words to me.” His thumbs stroked my cheeks, wiping away the damp of tears. “If only I were merely a man, and you merely a woman. I would spend my life with you...”

“But we are what we are,” I nodded. My hand stroked his hair back from his face a little. “Will just my love be enough for you, darling Aymeric?”

“Enough?” He laughed, but I saw the tears in his eyes. “It is a miracle. More than enough.”

“You keep saying such things,” I whispered, “but I'm not a miracle, not an angel. I'm just a fool with an axe.”

He looked like he had a lot he wanted to say about that, but then he smoothed my hair with one hand. “I will not argue with you tonight,” he murmured, “but you are far more than you admit.”

“Gods, I wish I'd told you sooner,” I sighed, and pulled him down to me.

The morning started nicely, with just myself and Aymeric in the garden. A breath of the familiar, laced with extra sweetness now that we had finally acknowledged how we both felt.

But it didn't stay like that for long.

Alphinaud came out into the garden, with Jarilant behind him carrying a tray. The usual breakfast things were presently joined by a pot of strong coffee and more pastries. As Alphinaud sat down and helped himself, I eyed him. “You're up awful early.”

“We do have an airship to catch this morning,” he answered with a small yawn, and then took a giant bite of an apple pastry.

I finished my own pastry, just watching him. He had that look, the look that I'd come to learn meant “I'm sure I have something brilliant to say and I'm only biding my time to say it.”

He finished his second cup of coffee. Then he turned to Aymeric and asked, “Ser Aymeric – might I beg the indulgence of a few moments of your time?”

Aymeric sipped his tea and then nodded. “I am listening.”

“As I mentioned night before last – and I am sure Berylla also talked with you of this – we are planning to travel to Doma.”

“Yes, I know of it. You plan to contact the remnants of that nation's rebellion?”

“Exactly.” Alphinaud's eyes shone a little as he leaned forward in his chair. “You have had to work with extremely limited resources, and I would implore your to share your thoughts on our endeavor.”

Aymeric regarded him for a long moment. “I would begin by asking a question of my own. What exactly do you plan to do, to bring about the liberation of Doma?”

“Our larger purpose in traveling to Doma, of course,” Alphinaud answered, “is to force Zenos to fight on two fronts. If we succeed, we more than double the chances for both Gyr Abania and Doma. And of course any reduction in the Empire's reach benefits Eorzea as a whole.” He swiped at his bangs, and continued, “We will go there, assess the situation, and proceed accordingly.”

Aymeric looked at Alphinaud as if the younger man had lost his mind.

“That...that's it?” Aymeric's voice was incredulous. “That's your plan? You're flinging yourself – and Berylla! – into enemy territory, against the might of the Empire, and you're going in _blind?_ ”

“I've heard worse plans,” I commented. “Such as convincing one great wyrm to battle another.”

He ignored me. His voice was clipped as he spoke to Alphinaud. “What of gathering information on the enemy – or for that matter on your hoped-for allies? What resources can Doma offer in this endeavor, hm? Do you even know whom you can contact? Do you know anything at all about the recent history or battles in the area?”

Alphinaud's eyes narrowed as he answered. “If we had the luxury of a year to gather such intelligence, I would be very pleased, but we do not.” His voice was firm. “I am, however, certain we can succeed. I would not have proposed this expedition otherwise.”

“ _How?_ ” Aymeric demanded. “Have you any notion what defenses the Empire may have, or how to deal with them?”

“Given the Empire's insistence on standardized military operations, it seems plain to me that simply studying past battles will give me a great deal of that sort of information, which I can then expand upon once we are in the field.” Alphinaud's expression tightened in response to Aymeric's scathing tone. “I am cognizant of the dangers, Lord Commander, I do assure you of that.”

“Hey, hey,” I interjected, holding my hands up. “Both of you, calm down.”

They stared at each other, and I tensed, wondering if they were going to start actually yelling at each other. I'd never seen this side of either man and I was not prepared for the cold anger in Aymeric's face, nor the gleam of stung pride in Alphinaud's eyes.

“How did you persuade General Aldynn of this plan?”

“He pinned the idea on me,” I said. “And I let him.”

Aymeric's eyes snapped to me, and I crossed my arms. I could handle him yelling at me. I wasn't sure what I would do if he yelled at Alphinaud. Or the other way around, for that matter. The notion made my stomach wobbly.

“ _Pinned_ it on you?” Alphinaud sounded indignant.

“Yeah, you did,” I nodded, my tone matter-of-fact. “It's not like we actually talked the idea out before then. I'm all for this plan, but the reason Raubahn let us loose on it was because you very cleverly made it look like my idea, not yours.”

His ears went pink.

“So you knew the plan was weak enough to require bolstering from Berylla's reputation,” Aymeric growled. “Just what are you trying to prove?”

“Can we not make this into a pissing contest?” I couldn't help it. The tension was driving me crazy. “To answer one of your questions, Aymeric, we're planning on tracking down Yugiri and Gosetsu. They'll be able to give us plenty of help, and I trust you recall how competent both of them are on a battlefield, so there's that as well.”

“I've a dozen volumes on the Doman Rebellion and related matters awaiting me in Limsa,” Alphinaud added. “Which should cover most of the recent history you mentioned.” He crossed his arms. “We are not as prepared as I would like. I grant you that. But we are also not completely incompetent, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric looked away from us both, and a brittle silence fell across the garden. “I shall loan you some of my own books on tactics,” he said at last, but his reluctance was clear. “They may be of limited use, as they were written specifically in regards to Dravanian invasions...”

Alphinaud had on his diplomatic smile. “I am certain I can draw some wisdom from them. Thank you.”

Aymeric nodded once, and then rose. “I will find them now, and then I must prepare for the day.”

“Of course,” Alphinaud nodded politely.

Aymeric left, and I rubbed at my temples for a moment.

“My apologies,” Alphinaud said to me.

I looked up and met his gaze. He lowered his eyes and picked at his sleeve. “I never intended to make you feel that I used you.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Not sorry about using me, though.”

He looked back up at me, his mouth open in shock.

“I don't really mind,” I shrugged. “Even if it _is_ a very loose plan, it was still worlds away better than anything anyone else had.”

“I..ah...” He swallowed. “I don't know quite what to say.”

“You'll notice I went with it,” I pointed out. “We're partners in this, aren't we? Just...if you need me for something like that again, you probably ought to tell me before hand.”

“Right,” he said faintly. “I shall remember that.”

I got up. “Eat some more,” I suggested. “You're not likely to see food this good for a long while. I'm going to go get ready.”

I stepped into the bedroom and closed the door. A half-dozen small books were stacked on the writing desk, but I didn't see Aymeric. My pack was ready – Milinne had taken all the filthy clothes and gotten the stench out of them, and then brought them back and packed them, too. I'd been using the clothes kept here for me. As I got back into my traveling outfit, Aymeric came in from the bathing chamber. I stopped, my tunic in my hands and my feet still bare, and just looked at him.

He finished drying his hair and tossed the towel aside, then snatched up his shirt and shrugged it on. He turned his back to me as he buttoned it up.

“It's not that terrible of a plan,” I said quietly. “At the very least there will be four Scions, and that truly isn't an insignificant group. We aren't going to try to free Doma all by ourselves. We'll be able to watch each other's backs, and we should be able to make it out alive even if everything goes badly.”

“Why are you defending it to me? I cannot forbid you to go.” He finished buttoning his shirt and started to reach for his boots.

“Don't,” I stopped, and took a breath. “Aymeric, please don't make me leave here knowing you're upset with me. This is already going to be hard on me.”

“And not on me?” He leaned against his dresser, his head down. “Did you tell me the things you did last night, because you knew this was a suicide mission? Do you have a death wish, Berylla?”

“Oh, so it's okay for you to risk your life, but not for me to do so?”

“It's not that – Fury!” He turned around to face me. “I don't want to lose you, Berylla. Can you not understand that? It would destroy me utterly, to know that you love me, and then...to never see you again...”

“That's exactly why I hesitated so long.” I slipped my tunic on, to hide the tears. “I never intended it to be so cruel.”

He came over to me and set his hands on my upper arms. “You'll leave me with nothing?”

“I already promised you all that I can, I promised you I will come home, what more do you want, Aymeric?”

“I want you to consent to marry me!”

I stared at him in complete shock.

_He wants_ _**what?** _ _Marry him? No – there's no way – I can't..._ My mind babbled, and I felt like someone had dropped me into ice cold water _. He doesn't know about Nero, about what kind of monster I really am. He doesn't understand about all that my being a Warrior of Light really means._

He looked almost as shocked as I did for a moment, as I struggled with myself. Then, his eyes grew worried, frantic. He shook me a little. “Say something, Berylla.”

 _Oh gods, if only I could – oh gods, it hurts so much, I want this so badly and I can't, I can't, I can't_.

My mouth opened and the words left me, like a dying breath.

“I can't. I'm sorry.”

I grabbed my boots in one hand and threw the door open. Then I grabbed my pack and fled out into the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!  
> If you have stuck with me through eighty-seven chapters like this, pat yourself on the back and also accept a gigantic hug from me!  
> You are all wonderful and I am very grateful for all the feedback and love I've gotten for this.
> 
> Never fear! This part is ended, but there IS a volume Two, to be posted very, very soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you have enjoyed this so far! Thank you for reading! There is more of Berylla and friends to come!
> 
> If you are enjoying this, I encourage you to come hang out with me and a whole lot of other folks on a discord called Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club  
> Please come and say hi!  
> https://discord.gg/8C6ZKTj


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